


Show me wealth, I'll show your heart

by harrystylesandstuff



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, Fluff, Harry has a house, Harry wants to care for him, Jealous Harry, Light Angst, Louis is homeless, Louis is soft, M/M, Poor Louis, Prompt Fic, Rich Harry, Shameless Smut, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:44:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5529821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrystylesandstuff/pseuds/harrystylesandstuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry knows the value of money. He knows how to negotiate numbers, knows its worth in engines, and knows the amount he needs to secure for his business. What he didn’t know was that, if spent wisely, money is the one thing he really doesn’t need.</p><p>Or AU where Harry has more money than he can handle, Louis can’t handle not having any, and they both find out the greatest wealth isn’t countable.</p><p> </p><p>  <img/><br/><img/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [andthetreewashappy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthetreewashappy/gifts).



> Hellooo !
> 
> Yeah I know here I am for the hundredth time with another fic !
> 
> This one was a prompt I got from LolaTommo, an idea I LOVED. So I hope you like it :D <3
> 
> Please disregard any inaccuracy regarding Harry's job, I'm not the best at explaining it...
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy as always and leave feedback so I know what you think :)
> 
> xx
> 
> Mel

_“Styles Corporation leaves all doubt aside when confirming the rumours. Far from bankruptcy, The Wolf officially announced their next CEO, which is none other than another Styles. A junior Styles. That’s right, you’re reading the exclusive truth here. Mr Des Styles must’ve thought he had years ahead of him, surely, because he named his own son, Harry Styles, to take over his kingdom. Of course, the news wouldn’t be as headline worthy if it stopped there. But keep this in mind: Harry Styles is eighteen years old. Yes. In other words, a baby. Will the Styles kingdom finally crumble and leave its spot to Wootton & Cowell ? Only time will tell. But if you want my opinion, we all better prepare ourselves to see The Men In The White Shirt take pride in their newfound success.”_

_Three years later…_

“Corden ! What good news do you have for me today ? Any progress on Edwards’ proposition ?” Harry shouts as he walks past his partner’s desk, waiting for him to appear right behind and close the door to his own office.

“Harry. The fuck is that tie ? And what’s with the curtain suit ? My god…Have you forgotten who’s coming in twenty minutes ?!” James scolds, escaping from Harry’s embrace because he’d never been a morning person.

“James James James.” Harry coos. “You need to loosen up a little… breathe…check out the new Gucci collection…This beauty was screaming at me.”

Harry walks proudly to the mirror he snuck into one of his many closets, and twirls to check himself out in his floral suit, black shirt buttoned to his neck. He rubs his hands against the blazer, fully feeling himself in the attire he’d been eyeing from the catwalk.

“But you’re right. The tie is too much.” He says as he unties the delicate fabric from around his neck and gently places the item in the closet, turning with a smirk to the man in the room.

“I don’t even know what to tell you, mate.” James sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in despair.

“Mr Styles, Mr Corden…Mr Cowell is here.” Sarah warns after a weak knock on the door.

“Let him in, Sarah !” Harry almost sings, giggling when his partner rolls his eyes and shoves his fist in his shoulder. Important meetings always made him cranky.

As usual, the meeting is as exciting as Harry’s worst nightmare, as plain and uneventful as a bowl of overwatered noodles and tasteless beans. They go over all the requests Simon Cowell has for them and decline every single one of them until it’s just their own agreement ready to be signed, Simon’s long forgotten and lost in a sea of environmental policy incoherencies and greed.

“What a fucking twat.” James grunts as soon as he’s done waving with a fake smile.

“I know. Can’t believe he thought we’d agree to any of this.” Harry shakes his head in disbelief, but not concerned for very long. He’s dealt with the man and his partner for years and witnessed his behaviour through his dad. He was used to it. “Any plans for lunch ?”

“Yeah, Suzan is waiting for me. Are you sure you’ll be alright by yourself ? I could tell her I need to help you, you know she’ll understand.”

“Nah mate. Go and enjoy your vacation, you’ve done more than enough for the past three years. You deserve that break.” Harry squeezes James’ cheek and gives a quick kiss to the fourty year old man before he can run away, earning a snort but a small smile on his way out.

Harry wasn’t looking forward to the next three weeks. James had been there from the second the company had taken notice of his dad’s death. He was there when they’d announced it in the hospital, was there when they had to freeze bank accounts, was there when the board asked for _the_ meeting, and there when he accepted to take on his dad’s legacy. He wasn’t just a business partner, he was his rock, and the family he could trust in a jungle of egotistic hypocrites and vultures.

But he had to let him breathe. He hadn’t had one day of rest since Harry’s decision to become the youngest CEO of one of the biggest civil engineering firms in the country. So when he asked for a three week vacation with his wife and young twins, Harry was both pleased and distraught, willing to let James have his life but also terrified to figure things out by himself. It’d been three years and he was still petrified when making a decision without checking with his friend who’d worked there for a decade. But he needed to try it out. He needed to prove to himself and his dad that he could do it, suck it up and be the man his father had raised.

The first three days sort of kill him.

He has to take every phone call, even the ones with intimidating middle-aged men treating him like a child, because he sort of was still even though he’d forgotten. He also leads meetings with ten other people in one room, manages wages within the company and skims through hundreds and hundreds of pages of new projects he needs to act upon.

He’s exhausted.

“I told you. He’s either all in or out, I don’t have time to explain myself. You tell him to shove that contract up his—“

Harry knew he should’ve just gotten coffee in the office, but the one they had was awful and he needed that shot of caramel creamer. One hand carrying two coffees and muffins and the other holding onto his briefcase, phone tucked between his ear and shoulder, all a recipe for disaster, one that occurred when he accidentally tripped over a can of some sort. He dropped the coffees and a few folders fell out of the half opened briefcase, and he cursed as loud as he could, wanting to stomp like a child because it was just not the day for that to happen.

"Fucking—“

“I’m so sorry !” A voice apologizes at Harry’s feet, making the latter open his eyes and face his disastrous reality.

He looks down to see a young man squatting to gather his folders, blue beanie on top of presumably dishevelled hair and a growing beard, grey hoodie and black ripped jeans falling on old black Vans with what Harry supposes used to be white stripes. He looks as exhausted as Harry feels, bag under his red eyes and raspy voice suggesting he had just woken up.

He’d seen that man before. He was always wandering around that street, sleeping on the ground or playing the guitar to get a few coins. Harry sometimes stopped to listen to him sing songs he loved, sometimes getting off work earlier just to enjoy the melodies and the unique voice that man had.

"It’s fine. I’m just that lucky, aren’t I ?” Harry sighs and joins the man to grab the coffee cups and throw them away, along with the fortune they cost because the coffee beans were apparently made of fucking gold there.

“It’s my fault. I accidentally kicked the can when falling asleep. I should probably find better places to crash to be honest.” The man chuckles but the idea doesn’t amuse Harry at all. He stops what he’s doing to take a look around them, and sees a pillow and a sleeping bag, all displayed in the corner along the street, dozens of beer cans piled up like a house of cards.

“Well…” Harry clears his throat, slightly uncomfortable at the sight of this homeless and seemingly alcoholic man sleeping in the streets of London. “Thank you for the help anyway.”

“No worries. Hope I didn’t stain anything ?” The man sounds too apologetic, and the blue of his eyes shines with remorse, making Harry’s stomach ache. He’d never been the one to judge people living on the street. That could’ve been him if his dad hadn’t written his will in time, so he’d never look down on homeless people, especially when they happened to be polite and rather sober.

“You didn’t.” Harry smiles, gathering the last papers to close his briefcase and tuck it under his arm. “Thank you.”

“Okay, um, sorry again.” The young man averts his eyes from Harry’s, who isn’t aware of how intense his gaze is, genuinely scrutinizing the man until his cheeks redden and his voice cracks. He did that sometimes, when he met someone that broke the norms he’d usually encounter, far from perfect suits and glimmering hair and more…real ? “I’ll go back to bed now. Good day, Sir.”

Harry snapped out of his silence at that.

_Sir._

He wasn’t a _Sir_. There was no way he could be called that by someone who looked barely older than him. He hated that word. It sounded like work, responsibilities, meetings, money and adulthood. He hated that word.

“I’m Harry.” He says as a reflex, frown hurting his face because he didn’t want to be called an old man right now. Just once.

“Oh, okay…Good day, Harry.” The man said, brows furrowed in confusion. He turned on his heels and slipped into his bed, leaving Harry surprised by his own sudden outburst. He rubs his forehead as if that’d make his brain function normally again, and grabs his phone back, calling Sarah because there was no time for distractions.

The entire day is spent wishing he was dead. He wasn’t suicidal at all, but throw him in a room full of Wootton & Cowell associates and you’ll have him ask for advice on the right rope to hang himself on top of the office’s building.

Once the day finishes, around nine at night - even though it’s never really over, people thinking two in the morning is a godly hour to warn about an engine failure – Harry can only tie his hair up in a bun, gather the papers he has to go through tonight, and head out, phone still glued to his ear.

It’s when he hangs up on the last phone call that it hits him: he’s miserable.

The man on the other line was the most soporific human being he’d ever exchanged words with. He talked numbers and stocks and profits, strong French accent forcing Harry to make even more effort to keep up with his nonsense. He’d been so consumed by all of this for so long, he had never noticed how incredibly despicable it all was, how utterly tragic his reality was, given a huge business at the age most kids learn how to make mistakes. He had no room for mistakes, no second chances, was allowed no failure, only focus and success to not shatter the world his dad had spent years building from the exact same age. And he wasn’t allowed to have a cry about it.

But it was killing him.

He hadn’t seen his childhood friends since the day he’d accepted to work. He couldn’t get drunk on a week night, couldn’t go on road trips and leave his workers by themselves, couldn’t even go out for a drink when all he knew was fancy dinners in snobbish restaurants, the pub forgotten and the late night gaming sessions nowhere in his memory. He was a twenty-one year old fifty year old man with too much power in his hands. And he hated it.

The days don’t change though. He still has to show up at eight every morning even when the phone calls have started at five. He still has to choose a different tailored suit and pretend he has slept, pretend he’s got it, pretend that he’s got everything in control and he isn’t falling apart in his head because he’s literally carrying a world on his shoulders.

The only thing that had slightly changed was the morning habit he’d developed lately. He still got his coffee, but now he got a sugar free tea as well for someone he meets everyday, lying on the dirty street downtown on his way to work. He’d waved hello the day after they ‘d met and offered a coffee the homeless man refused, claiming tea with milk and no sugar was the only way to get him through the day.

Of course, he’d said it jokingly, but Harry wanted some sort of change in his life, and maybe that could start with getting a nice homeless man some tea when he could buy the entire coffee shop. That was the least he could do.

They meet every morning and Louis even wakes up before Harry arrives, sharing a few words on the weather and whatnot. He never talks about his life and Harry never asks - that’d be rude - but they do share common interests in the very British way of ranting about the rain, so it’s quite a nice way to start the day.

Harry almost feels like a normal human being and not a machine, chatting about things he’d never have the time to with the people he’s normally surrounded by, eagerness about the situation on the current call for tender taking over the politeness that should be required at all times.

This man wasn’t what Harry had expected. Of course he hadn’t expected a madman ready to steal his briefcase – maybe - but it was still a surprise to find a young man this clever and well spoken in the street. He wore clean, different clothes, and his bag seemed to keep valuables Harry himself owned. So, one day, he decided to ask.

“Why…How…What’s your story ?” He’d said, sipping on his coffee whilst staring at the man drinking his steaming tea. The latter laughed to lessen the awkward tension that instantly rose, clearly not ready for that chat.

“I’m Louis. I’m twenty-four, and an idiot. That’s pretty much it.” The guy had answered with a smug expression on his face, hiding words Harry almost perceived for a split second, discrete frown quickly vanishing in a wide smile and a light laugh.

“Fair enough.” Harry had nodded. He wasn’t willing to force the words out of him. He sort of liked him after all, homelessness quickly put aside after a few words.

They keep meeting around the same time and Harry tries to convince himself he has things to do when he’s not even supposed to go to work, just to get Louis that tea and have nice chats. The guy was rather funny and he wasn’t the least attractive man around, messy hair, blue eyes turning green, a nice smile and a ready tongue. Sure Harry wasn’t going to flirt with the homeless guy in front of his office, but it didn’t make that statement any less true.

“So you’re like a proper business man ? Thought you were wearing nice clothes for an internship or some shit.” Louis smiles as he listens to Harry’s plans for the day. The latter hadn’t even realized he’d been talking about work. It was the sort of things that ultimately happened when spending so much time married to your business, you forget there’s another world outside.

“Yeah…” Harry blushes. It’d been years but he still had struggles admitting it was all his, that he had this huge empire all for himself.

“Wow. I’m impressed.” Louis licks his lips, mouth open in genuine admiration. “Why would a busy man like you take his time to chat to a guy like me ? Dragging a bloody backpack under the bridges of London…”

“I don’t know.” Is all Harry can answer. He had no real explanation for this. He just sort of liked that one thing that differed from everything else from the last three years. It’d been the same day every fucking week of every month of every year, so that unusual variable was rather thrilling. “Gets pretty lonely I guess.”

“Would you look at that, a homeless guy and a classy man in suit and we still feel the same shit. That’s funny.” Louis throws his head back as if to ponder the thought, laughing at the situation, the irony of two men on opposite sides of society linked by the same struggle.

“It is.” Harry laughs despite himself, going on a full giggle as he tries to stop, in vain. It was him feeling the way he’d feel if he hadn’t sacrificed his life for his father’s pride, and Louis realizing what he could’ve been, which happened to be exactly who he was now.

They’re usually just standing in Louis’ corner, away from the street, leaning against the crappy wall that would sure leave a mark on Harry’s expensive blazer, but one that he didn’t mind so much.

“Shouldn’t you go to work or something ?” Louis asked after a long pause, coffee and tea long gone.

“Oh shit.”

 

. . .

 

“What the fuck do you mean we didn’t _get_ it ?” Harry tries to contain himself but it’d been a long day and he didn’t even have time to grab coffee on his way, a late night phone call having spread enough stress to not even register what kept him sane while James was gone.

“I…Mr Jones called and—“ Sarah looks devastated as she always did when giving bad news. But this time even more.

Harry had spent the past six months thinking he’d for sure have this offer. He would construct that building from scratches and get the recognition he deserved in the milieu. He’d sign the first huge deal after his dad’s death and prove himself to all the boring old men that ever doubted him. And now it was gone.

“Who got it ?” Harry asks, running a harsh hand through his long hair that had way too much product in it. He always got looks for the length among all these clones with short hair and two tubes of gel in one strand. He fucking hated that gel.

“Wootton & Cowell…” Sarah almost whispers, knowing her boss was more than done dealing with his opponents. They’d try to find agreements and keep it courteous, but leave it to those two arseholes the ability to screw everything up and set up deals behind Harry’s back. “They said you didn’t send the last report.”

“What ?” Harry winces. Of course it had to be his fucking fault. He had so many things to take care of, it’d completely slipped his mind.

He wants to apologize to Sarah, to the entire company, to the thirty employees working for him, but all he does is groan and slam the door on his way out, pushing everyone on his path because there was just so much he could take. It was the one thing he had to do this year, the one market he had to conquer, the one thing his dad would’ve wanted him to work on, and he blew it.

He’s almost turning into a literal ticking bomb when his phone rings again. He sees ‘Dan Wootton’ on the screen and yells, throwing his phone over the bridge next to him to crumble on the ground, night pitch black and suit too tight. And he makes a mental note to thank James for getting him two phones for that very possibility.

“Bad night ?” A man asks, voice echoing in Harry’s messy brain 

“You could say that, yeah.” Harry sighs when he looks up, watching as Louis sits down next to him and takes out a cigarette.

“Want one ?”

Harry didn’t smoke. He’d tried the first year thinking it was the normal thing to do when stressed, but he’d quickly replace it with yoga, then meditation, then coffee. He nods anyway and lets Louis light up the cigarette, inhaling the smoke as he gestures for the man to pull away.

“Wanna talk about it ?” Louis asks, words lost in the heavy breeze, way cooler than it was a few days ago, autumn coming faster than expected.

“I’m Harry. I’m twenty-one, and an idiot. That’s pretty much it.” Harry shrugs and Louis laughs, flicking the ashes off the cigarette on his side as he blows the smoke into the air, Harry’s eyes glued on the way his cheeks hollow to form circles.

Harry takes it as a challenge and mimics his homeless companion, making the latter cheer and applaud. Harry doesn’t stop there though, he vaguely recalls his high school nights and blows the smoke straight into his nose, making Louis gawk at him.

“Show off.”

Harry giggles, feeling the way he used to in high school in Danny’s basement, when everything was simple and the only thing he had to worry about was the amount of crisps he could eat before passing out.

They stay in silence, enjoying another cigarette each as they look up to see the tallest building in London, the one Harry works in, the home of all his nightmares. They let the wind brush their faces and take away the smoke they exhale, building a comforting kind of void Harry wasn’t aware he craved, empty street and black sky next to a guy who knew when to let the silence be.

“Are you hungry ?” Harry murmurs when he remembers he’s been going all day without one thing in his stomach.

“Um…” Louis stutters, throwing the cigarette’s butt over the bridge to readjust his beanie. On second thought, that might have been a silly question. That man had to spend hours standing with his guitar to get a pound, he was probably starving.

“Pizza. I just want a fucking pizza.” Harry states, as if that was the hardest thing one could possibly get these days.

“Yeah that’d be nice.” Louis shrugs and stands up when Harry does. “I’ll see you around then.”

The man smiles and starts his journey ‘home’, leaving Harry behind and bewildered.

“Hey ! What are you doing ?” Harry calls after him.

“Walking to my pavement ?” Louis raises an inquisitive brow, pointing towards his street.

“You like pizza, right ?”

“Well…yeah.”

“C’mon then. There’s this place I haven’t been since high school.” Harry doesn’t let Louis a chance to protest, already guiding the both of them down the street, to his car.

“Wait.” Louis stops when he notices Harry grabbing keys from his pocket. “Are you sure you want me to come with you ?”

“Louis. I’ve been hanging out with you for over a week and not once have you even glanced at my watch or taken my briefcase. Let me get you a pizza.”

Louis doesn’t argue further. He hops in the front seat of the old Mercedes and tries his best not to drool, looking at every little thing from the leather seats to the steering wheel neatly clothed with a nude beige colour that blends in just the way it should. He touches every button, caresses the handle and finally looks over to Harry’s side to see him turn on the engine and make it roar, an instant smile spreading on his face with delight.

“I haven’t had a pizza in years.” Harry admits as he drives with Louis at his side, still amazed by the interior of this masterpiece.

“Are you serious ? What do you even eat then ? Diamonds ?” Louis jokes and makes the both of them laugh, filling the car until Harry rolls the windows down to have the fresh air kiss their faces and the old Bob Dylan record flow with each breeze.

“I eat gastronomic treasures. It costs too much for half of half of a bite, but it’s pretty decent.” Harry shrugs.

“Sounds nice.” Louis doesn’t sound sarcastic. He’s genuinely considering the beauty of that idea. And Harry considers another one he quickly pushes away.

They get to the place within fifteen minutes, and Harry’s glad he could remember the path. It’s in a busy street but the Italian restaurant is as empty as it used to be. The door is weird looking, rusty green paint falling apart, and the sign is still hanging too low for anyone to be attracted, missing out on the greatest pizza in the city.

They reach the door and Harry absentmindedly places a ghosting hand on the small of Louis’ back to guide him in, not taking it away when the latter smiles politely. He looked smaller somehow, as if the three years that made him older were absolutely nothing. He was slightly shorter than Harry and that didn’t help his instinct to look after him, as if his time on the street had made him more fragile than robust.

They get a table in the back, just the one Harry used to sit at with his mates until the place closed, sharing stories they’d forget within minutes and having a laugh about the most stupid things that didn’t matter anymore but that Harry wishes would be his only concern.

“So…tell me about yourself.” Harry leans on the table with his hands folded, gaze serious as he waits for Louis to speak up, order placed – Louis had decided to get the entire menu, surely starving, and that thought made Harry want to learn more, and maybe give this boy the entire food supply of the restaurant.

“What do you want to know ?” Louis asked, munching on one of the breadsticks he’d stored in his hand as if someone would steal the entire basket.

“Anything you’re willing to tell me.” Harry shrugs, grabbing a breadstick from the basket.

“I was in a band.” Louis said after a pause. “We were gonna make it big. The four of us. We were gonna travel the world and entertain people. But I screwed up.”

Harry lets him talk, careful not to interrupt when it’s been the most Louis has said about his life. There was something endearing about it, how he didn’t look for the first opportunity to seek pity, to justify his dreadful situation. Harry had spent so much time doing just that, explaining why he couldn’t do certain things, considering his past as an excuse rather than what it was: the past.

“One day we got a call from this big management. We had an audition and everything already set up to sign a contract because they loved us, saw us play a few gigs in pubs and all that. But my friend Calvin called me that day. He needed help with some guy he had troubles with, threatened to kill him and stuff - I wasn’t in the prettiest part of Donny – so I decided to help him out, and it lasted longer than expected.”

The hurt is audible. The remorse too. It was the first time this man had shown a hint of pain and regret, and Harry didn’t like that at all. He just wanted to reach across the table and heal every part of that man that got broken along the way. It was unsettling how this nice, funny guy had found himself in such a mess.

“We missed the shot and my friends never forgave me for it. And I’m not sure I ever did either.”

Harry lets Louis pick at the bread in his hand, crumbs spreading all over the table as he gets lost in thought, surely remembering the feelings that came with the realization of the greatest missed opportunity of his life.

“Once, I wanted to go to a badminton tournament. I could’ve gone pro, won every prize there ever was in school and stuff.” Harry starts. “But that day my dad wanted to show me something he was working on. I wanted to make him happy, to help him out, so I skipped the tournament, and lost my only chance to go pro or get a scholarship for it.”

Louis looks up, intrigued by where Harry is going with this.

“Turns out I learnt the most valuable thing I ever learnt from that day, and it’s the one thing that got me through three years of managing a firm. So, what I’m trying to say is, whatever is above us know what they’re doing. There’s a reason behind everything.”

“Wise man.” Louis chuckles, gently brushing his fringe on the side with a delicate hand, a gesture Harry has figured is a nervous reflex when the man blushes or feels uncomfortable, as if it’s a new situation he hasn’t quite figured out yet.

The food arrives after that and Louis doesn’t wait to dive in, eating everything at once as if he hadn’t eaten for days, as if that food would disappear any second, and as if Harry would at any given time decide he doesn’t want Louis to share a meal with him anymore. He watches carefully, amused by it all, giggling in his palm when Louis gets tomato sauce all over his face to keep up his fast pace.

“You know you can breathe, right ?” He finally reassures the man, placing a light hand on Louis’ to slow him down. The latter gives apologetic eyes and stops, whispering a weak ‘ _sorry_ ’ with all the food in his mouth. “You like it ?”

“Love it !” Louis moans into his plate of pasta with a slice of pizza in one hand as Harry lifts his fork and knife to cut his own.

“Oh.” Louis frowns.

“What ?”

“A pizza is meant to be eaten with hands, Harry.” The man mocks and doesn’t wait for Harry’s response to get the cutlery away from him. It only makes Harry more endeared, taken aback by Louis’ frankness, people usually treating him with caution, aware of his status. They’d never dare give him orders, and would probably pick up cutlery themselves to eat a pizza if Harry did. He gives in though, trapping a slice between his hands to take a bite, and moans just the way Louis had, making the latter laugh and resume his dinner of a lifetime.

Harry chats about how he’d became the youngest entrepreneur as they keep eating, making Louis widen his eyes and nod to every part of it, letting Harry describe the story the way he wants, leaving the part where he’d spent the first six months wrapped in a blanket like a child to stay away from responsibilities.

“You’re very mature, a proper adult.” Louis states. “It’s funny how age doesn’t even matter. I thought I’d be a responsible grown man at twenty-four. But _you_ are.”

“Can I ask you something ?” Harry asks as if Louis hadn’t said anything. He always ignored the word ‘adult’, had jumped too fast into it, loathed it.

“Sure.” Louis smiles, digging a spoon into his chocolate fudge cake.

“What do you want to do later ?”

“I’ll probably find a new corner to be honest, it’s starting to get fucking freezing where I’ve been lately.”

“No I meant…” Harry sighs.

“Oh. You mean what’s my plan to get myself off the street ?”

“Yeah.”

“I haven’t been the luckiest guy, Harry.” Louis begins, setting his spoon aside to look straight into Harry’s eyes in all honesty. “I know my future isn’t bright. I’ve crashed my friend’s couch for months and now he kicked me out and I have nowhere to go. I ran away from my family to make it big and snubbed them until they stopped reaching out. I don’t deserve much and I know it. 

Harry had talked to many people in three years, but never to someone this genuinely open, as honest as they come, not a hint of self pity, no will to impress or depress, not a single trait of annoyance when it comes to describing life and its struggles. It was so organic, so not manufactured like all the answers he’d gotten over the years, and he wasn’t sure how to react to that.

“Everyone deserves a roof.” He simply says and Louis leaves it at that to go back to his pudding.

They keep chatting until they get kicked out, happily strolling to the car, full, exhausted, and amused, laughing all the way to the Mercedes until they’re both almost rolling on their seat.

“It was very nice of you. Thank you.” Louis says once they’ve reached his street.

“Thank you for keeping me company.” Harry grins and gets out of the car to open Louis’ door for him, giving a hand Louis takes to get out as well.

“Hope you’ll find a way to get back at Wootton & Cowell !” Louis gives a thumbs up as he walks away, and Harry can’t even function. It wasn’t everyday that someone actually listened to what he’d said, and he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted another ear, and certainly not another mouth that formed the words he didn’t know he needed to hear.

“Good night, Louis.” Harry almost shouts. Louis waves from behind and it leaves a small smile on Harry’s face. He then shakes his head because, out of all the scenarios and all the crazy things that’s happened to him, getting attached to the homeless man on his way to work wasn’t the most expected one.

And that night he sort of thinks about other kinds of investments.

 

. . .

 

“Beckham. Legend.” Louis decides.

They’d been discussing sports for half an hour and Louis had hesitated but finally decided on his favourite player of all time. Harry suspected the footballer’s looks sort of played in his favour after Louis had hinted on his preferences in a rather intense chat about athletes, and it made Harry blush because, even though he wouldn’t admit it, maybe Louis was interesting for other things than his bubbly personality and unconscious way of teaching Harry a lesson or two.

It was the way he spoke, not at all phased by his choice of words, sometimes raw but never entirely inappropriate to the situation, somehow. It was the way he tucked his messy hair on the side as a bad habit and always checked it in every reflective surface even though it already looked perfect. It was the way he focused on his hair when his jeans were badly ripped and his shoes had holes in them. It was the way he smiled, crinkles forming by his eyes, the way he laughed, throwing his head back, and the way he treated Harry, making him forget he was a bloody powerful CEO and owner of too many properties.

That’s what Harry got from the several dinners they’d had since the pizza place. He’d started to enjoy this man’s company so much he gradually took him for dinner every night, stopping at his street after work to talk about his day and let Louis talk about his, always making him laugh enough to choke and forget the stress as if there never was any.

It was just so easy, to chat about everything and not have to sign an agreement on it, to not involve maths and finance and all the things Harry hated. It was just him talking and Louis listening, Louis talking and Harry admiring the character in front of him, never describing anything as an unfortunate event but rather as something he has no control over, that’s in the past, but that, sadly, isn’t always a lesson.

Overall, Harry saw a broken heart but a joyful soul, and he somehow just wanted to heal that broken part, to mend the broken pieces and make that man whole again, to overwhelm him with all the things he should’ve had, make him realize how he didn’t deserve any of the crap that could’ve happened.

He may have looked tough, Louis revealed himself everyday as a fragile and soft young man, begging for care. Harry just wanted to take him home and spoil him rotten, make every wish a demand and make sure he’d never need anything ever again.

He’d forgotten where he’d come from, where he slept, what he ate, and he just considered the same thought he’d had for a few days now.

“I have a spare room in my house. It’s not even just a room. There’s a kitchenette and a bathroom and a small living room…It’s downstairs and it’s basically like a second house.” He explained one night. “I want you to come live there.”

And that’s how, on a spurt of the moment when Louis was talking about tattoos, Harry asked this homeless man to move in with him, not taking no for an answer, and pleased to find out that answer hadn’t even crossed Louis’ mind, agreeing eagerly as he contained himself to not crush Harry’s bones in a hug. He stayed silently smiling like a madman, turning as soft as Harry had found out he actually was, thanking him enough to make him forget that, as generous as he was being, it couldn’t be the smartest decision.

But Harry didn’t think about it for now. He didn’t think about the fact that he’d invited a complete stranger to live in his home, didn’t think about how he’d just taken a homeless mildly alcoholic man under his roof, and certainly didn’t try to anticipate what would happen when driven by a sentiment that wasn’t completely uninterested.

“Thank you.” Louis said one last time and gave Harry a look that shattered all the doubts he should’ve had.

There was just no way he wasn’t keeping this man by himself.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“So that’s the kitchen right there. I think there’s everything you need but if you’re missing something you can ask and I’ll get it for you.”

Harry had been giving a tour to Louis for only ten minutes and he was already almost sweating with doubts. Was that safe ? He barely even knew the guy after all, and he’d been living on the streets, surely making dangerous encounters. Had Harry gone mad ?

He still keeps going though, showing him the small extra flat within his house, the one his maid used to live in. He always felt too bad to have one. He’d grown up with dozens of them through the years though, so he lied to his mom and said Valerie was doing a great job, even though he’d let her go a year ago out of guilt. She only came once in a while to clean and tidy up when Harry couldn’t bear the mess anymore, earning the exact same salary, but not spending her entire time at Harry’s house, spending it with her family instead. It was the sort of detail every respectable rich man should own apparently, a person, a servant to cater to his needs and not worry about other things than money and success. But Harry was still struggling with the idea of what he should be, so maybe he could adjust a few things, such as welcoming a homeless man in his house when he had extra rooms to share.

“I can’t believe you called that small.” Louis whispers in awe as he steps into the bedroom, king-size bed matching the white curtains hiding a spectacular view on the gardens. There’s a walk-in closet, a small wooden desk that really isn’t that small, but is compared to Harry’s. There’s also a tall shelf welcoming too many books of too many genres, and a rather kitsch chandelier to ignite the whole thing.

“I hope you’ll feel comfortable then.” Harry chuckles, bringing both his hands behind his back to straighten up and take that powerful stance he’s been doing when pride flushed through him.

“I mean, I’ll try my best…” Louis jokes, making Harry laugh once more, clutching his chest before recomposing himself as he remembers it might not have been _that_ hilarious.

“You can of course enjoy the gardens and the pool. I’d suggest the indoor one given how cold it’s getting lately.”

“Can I use your Aston Martin as well ?” Louis asks with a faked serious expression that’s meant to be amusing, but Harry doesn’t quite grasp the intention.

“You can, I’m just not sure which one you’d prefer.”

“Oh my God.” Louis slaps his forehead and laughs, and Harry isn’t sure why, but it’s contagious so he laughs as well.

 

. . .

 

“Mr Styles ?... Mr Styles ?”

Harry couldn’t hear the voice even if he wanted to. He couldn’t keep his brain awake and couldn’t help dropping his head on his crossed arms on the desk, snoring lightly and not even caring if Sarah could hear him from the phone he’d picked up but never really answered, exhaustion getting the best of him.

“Mr Styles, Mrs Cole is waiting for you in the conference room.” Sarah insists through the phone.

Harry lifts his head up, squinting, dribble in the corner of his mouth. He hadn’t had the time to sleep yet, and the lack of coffee was making it impossible to focus and keep his eyes open, that bloody melody stuck in his head.

Louis had spent the entire night playing the guitar. He was obviously trying to compose, because it was all a series of various chords that didn’t always fit, and didn’t always make it easy to fall asleep. At all.

So Harry’s day couldn’t get any worse when he’s reminded that he’s booked three different meetings in the morning and three more in the afternoon.

By the end of that day, he can’t even do anything right, stopping several times on the road to not cause an accident, stumbling up the stairs, and finally falling on his bed, all clothed and unable to move a limb.

He doesn’t even remember that he’s not alone anymore, that he can’t pretend it’s just him and an empty house. He can’t pretend he’s alone in his big intimidating world.

“Harry ?” A tentative voice calls through the door pushed ajar. “Harry, are you alright ?”

This man was too sweet for Harry’s despicable mood. He could probably soften a raging lion, because all Harry had done was hear his voice, his gentle and cautious voice, and he was already on his feet, smiling big because the last thing he wanted was to make this experience a bad one for the previously homeless man that somehow made his day bearable.

“Yes. I’m just tired. Is it okay if I go to sleep ? Or do you need something ?” He politely asks, willing to stay up a few more hours if Louis needed.

“No, I’m fine. You go ahead and sleep.” Louis grins and begins to close the door but stops and reopens it slightly to peek his head. “Hey, um…can I watch the telly in your living room ? It looks sick on the projector thingy.”

Harry might have been falling apart under the weight of fatigue and stress, he still laughs, always caught off guard by Louis’ way of saying things, low voice and serious eyes when asking for the simplest things.

“Of course you can. You’re welcome upstairs, Louis.” Harry chuckles and flushes for a second at that. He hadn’t even thought about it, it just slipped. But there was surely no real issues with Louis enjoying the rooms upstairs. The small extension was quite suffocating for someone who spent all day there after all, so Harry returned Louis’ ‘ _goodnight_ ’ when the latter thanked him, and stripped out of his clothes to start snoring louder than any engine he’d ever own.

And he’s awake a few hours later, not because he’d slept enough, but because Louis was clearly determined to get that new song right.

 

. . .

 

“Mr Styles ?” Sarah knocks on Harry’s door, making the latter get the pen he was biting away from his teeth to pay attention. “Mr Horan is on line 2.”

“I’ll take him, thank you Sarah.”

Harry grabs the phone on his left and falls backwards so his leather chair can bend and allow him to rest his feet on his interminable dark wooden desk.

“What’s _up_ Neil ?” Harry makes a popping sound on the ‘ _up_ ’ and giggles, still able to make himself laugh for no reason because of that inside joke that was born the day before, between Louis and him, creating loud laughter and even a few tears. All Louis had done was accidentally eject his gum out of his mouth from his exaggeration of the word, and Harry had bent in half trying not to laugh too hard at that. If anyone asks, you had to be there to get it.

“ _What’s up_?! What about _you_?! You didn’t tell me you’d become a shelter overnight, mate !” Harry’s friend says in panic, making Harry drop his feet from his desk and imagine the worst.

_Had Niall kicked Louis out when finding him ? Did he catch him doing something suspicious ? What was Niall even doing at his house ? Had he kept the keys from that time he asked to water the plants Harry found dead after a three day business trip ?_

“So you’ve met Louis…” He simply says, sighing because he knew what Niall would say. They’d been neighbours for only two years but it felt like they were from the same family, long lost brothers who didn’t have any mystery left for each other.

“Yes I’ve met Louis and I can’t believe you’d put up the singer sleeping in front of your office. Love the voice, great talent, very funny lad, but terribly bad idea.”

“Niall.”

"No Harry. You have too much on your plate already, you can’t take that risk ! Imagine if he stole something, folders, data, your safe !” Niall sounds frantic and Harry lets him finish, rolling his eyes at how dramatic his friend could be. He was terrified of strangers. He worked from home to not face people, so him making a fuss had more to do with his protest against meeting new people, especially when they became unavoidable living in his best friend’s house.

It was a wonder how Harry had managed to befriend him to be honest. Niall was the most outgoing, hilarious and entertaining lad, but only for very deserving people, the ones he truly trusted. He had an unknown pathology that mixed agoraphobia and an unsettling will to have an audience. It wasn’t easy. But Harry was both very responsive and quite calm, so it worked out for the best, making Niall feel like he had a crowd in front of him, whilst having the opposite.

“You can trust him, Niall. Have you talked ?” Harry asks, skipping the part where he asks what the hell his neighbour was doing in his house.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t too chatty so he went downstairs and left me in the living room.” Niall explains and huffs right after. “Can’t believe you’d home a stranger like that.”

“He needed the help and he was nice and harmless. I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if something had happened to him in that street, mate. You know it could’ve been me.”

Niall seems to consider the comment, because he doesn’t argue over that. He just sighs and reminds Harry of his empty fridge, that the latter clearly remembers filling up two days ago. Niall was just like a cat really, only coming around for food and fleeing whenever someone took a step towards him. But he was a nice kind of cat. Person. He was a nice person.

The rest of the day is as hectic as the rest of the week, phone calls fighting in Harry’s ears and meeting after meeting after professional lunch after video conference…

The only thing that’s worse than a regular day though ? Public Prosecution Day.

Because Harry’s firm was one of the heaviest on the market, and because it made no sense for people that it was managed by a twenty-one year old, Harry was sued every two days. Whether it being for stupid little details on incoherent dates other firms hacked or more serious issues like defamatory accusations of embezzlement, Harry had to call his lawyer everyday to keep up with trials, the true battlefield of the industry.

Today was Wootton & Cowell’s turn - for a change - regarding presumably non-compliant engines Harry’s company would’ve delivered to them. He doesn’t even read the submissions. He gives a call to Irvin Azoff and gathers everything to go home and call it a day.

He does think about it on his drive home though. He does think about what would happen if his lawyer didn’t win a case, if they’d actually made a mistake, and if there was a chance he’d find himself in prison, trapped by the machinery of this vicious part of society his father had thrown him into despite himself. It makes a constant frown stuck to his face until he parks and gets out, heavy footsteps echoing as he climbs the stairs to the first part of the house.

He does check every room, but Louis is nowhere to be seen. His bed is neatly made, not a misplaced shoe, not a single stain of toothpaste in the sink. He calls for him once and decides to get to his part of the house when he doesn’t get any answer.

He throws his coat on the couch on his way to the kitchen, still wondering where Louis could be. He takes his blazer off as slowly as one can, a million questions rushing through his mind.

_Was Louis gone ? Was he fed up with being by himself in this gigantic house all day ? Was he fed up with Harry ? Did he get something he wanted and leave ? Was he just out for the night ? Would Harry stay alone tonight ? Would he not hear that cringing noise of guitar as his lullaby ?_

He steps out of his shoes and begins to unbutton his shirt, tying his hair up as he strolls to the kitchen to feed his starving self. On second thought, there definitely was plenty of similarities between his and Louis’ lifestyle.

The fridge is empty though, just like Niall indicated. He can’t be arsed to actually cook, but his stomach is screaming and twisting and he’ll probably pass out within minutes. He decides on takeaways, his safety nest, piles of his favourite restaurant’s numbers put in a metal box he always says hides embarrassing family photos –because that’d obviously be more acceptable to say when hosting cocktail parties.

When he walks to the dining room to get the box though, he freezes.

There, displayed on the luxurious dining table, is a table cloth, the one he absolutely adores but never uses, an everyday main course plate and another one for starters. There’s the silvery napkin his mom had gifted him last Christmas, carefully folded to form a geometric masterpiece in the centre.

A glass of red wine is already poured, and a glass of water is standing right next to it. On the rest of the table, a roasted meal straight out of Heaven: greens, carrots, peas, mash, brown sauce and half a roasted chicken, all put in large trays Harry never used on a daily basis because you really don’t need to when it’s just you.

When he gets his eyes off the table for a second, he sees Louis standing right beside it, tea towel hanging from his arm like a waiter. He looks expectant, waiting for Harry’s reaction who’s too amazed to even form words.

“Wh—When—For me ?” He stutters, already turning red at the sight, and he might be passing out for a whole new reason.

“Yes !” Louis nods happily. “I got bored today so I decided to use the few bits you had left so you wouldn’t have to order food. I looked it up, Harry. It’s very expensive.”

Louis is speaking as if Harry didn’t own four cars, and it somehow makes him smile. He still isn’t moving though, shocked and utterly unable to do anything but breathe in the smell of a Sunday roast on a weekday.

“I also watered the plants and cleaned a few things…Hope you don’t mind ?” Louis adds and Harry’s knees become too weak for him to stand any longer. He drags himself to the chair Louis pulls for him, and sits down, eyes devouring the table as Louis waits for some sort of vital signs.

“N—No, not at all. But please don’t feel like you have to ? This smells amazing but you must’ve spend so much time cooking…” Harry tries his best not to say the inappropriate thought recalculating the logical happenings of a homeless man being this clean and homely.

“As I said, I was bored. Plus, it’s the least I can do.” Louis chuckles and starts serving Harry, following his instructions to drown everything in gravy. “Bon appétit !”

Harry gawks at him but still manages to stop him when he sees the man almost sprint to the living room.

“Aren’t you gonna eat with me ?” He sounds desperate and quickly clears his throat. “I mean, you can eat with me if you’d like.”

“Are you sure ?”

“Louis. You’re living here now, we’re both lonely idiots, remember ? Grab a plate and join me, love.”

The pet name had escaped Harry’s mouth but Louis didn’t seem to mind so Harry didn’t flinch either. A quick shiver did wreck his chest, but it was probably due to his lack of nutrients. Surely.

“So I heard you met Niall ?” Harry asks once Louis is well seated and served by Harry and his clumsy hands that lacked Louis’ expertise in presentation. He was a brilliant waiter in the past, Harry decides.

“Oh yeah, great lad ! A bit shy though, isn’t he ?”

“Um yeah, he’s slightly terrified of people, but he loves everyone. Does that make sense ? Anyway, don’t worry about him he comes around sometimes and talks a lot but if he bothers you he will see it and won’t do it again.” Harry sounds amused by this, knowing his friend’s weird habits.

“Oh no, I like him. We chatted about the book he’s writing, very insightful mind he has.” Louis laughs to himself as if to remember a funny thing that happened with Niall, and Harry tries not to frown at the fact that he’s not in on the fun. He slaps himself mentally and bites into his chicken. 

“How’s your day been ?”

And no, Harry wasn’t ready to say a word about that. So he naturally said too many after a five second pause and a second glass of wine.

Louis probably didn’t need to know so much and it probably wasn’t very clever to disclose so many professional information, but he was tired and the conversation was always too easy and nicely flowing with Louis, so his mouth couldn’t help it.

“Wow. How do you even cope with so much stress ?” Louis sounds worried and Harry had forgotten how _that_ sounded like.

He doesn’t give any answer because he doesn’t have any. He finishes his dinner and Louis doesn’t insist, changing the subject to the ridiculous DVD collection Harry has all around his TV. They clean up the table and Harry figures he can enjoy at least fifteen minutes of whatever movie Louis will decide to watch. He’d chosen _Meet Joe Black_ , one of Harry’s favourites, so the latter sat on one end of the brown leather couch, sinking into the large cushions with a squeal.

After five minutes in, he dozed off. His eyes couldn’t bear his eyelids anymore, just like every night after ten, like the old man he was - physically. The only reason he reopened them was because of the two dainty hands suddenly massaging his shoulders.

It took him a little while to realize what was happening. He was just so tired, the entire week was weighing him down and he couldn’t help matching the gesture with his shoulders, slightly swaying on the couch as fingertips dug into his skin and drew circles, gradually rougher, gradually deeper, and gradually unbearably pleasant, bringing him back to himself.

He quickly opened his eyes once his mouth did it first, and swallowed, not sure how to respond to this favour. Louis kept going though, not noticing Harry’s uneasiness. Granted, that wasn’t very clear as he leaned back into it and slightly whimpered, but in his head he was very against it. Louis’ thumbs were digging into his shoulder blades whilst his other fingers circled on top, squeezing together a few times until all the knots Harry could feel completely vanished, leaving him with a hint of pain, the kind that he wouldn’t mind but that maybe wouldn’t end very well for Louis’ sight.

He decided to get it together and cough, escaping Louis’ grip as the latter left his hands hanging in confusion.

“Too harsh ?” He asked, sadness already spreading on his face. Harry wanted to put his hands right back where they were and let him crush his bones if it meant bringing back a smile. Or something close to that.

“No, no. It was very nice. But I should probably go to bed now.” Harry announces, standing up, realizing his shirt was still only half buttoned, tattooed collarbones and chest exposed. He doesn’t adjust it.

“A- Alright. Goodnight then. Sorry for the massage, thought you might need it after today…”

Harry wasn’t a fast speaker, but the speed at which he says the following words makes Louis jump backwards in surprise.

“I loved it !” He surprises himself, clutching his chest as if to wonder if someone else had just talked instead of him. It makes Louis laugh, throwing his head back before fixing his messy fringe that looked soft this time, all combed and neat, probably the result of Harry’s guest toiletry. “Sorry. You’re just really good with your hands.”

Damn it.

“I don’t mean- I just…Thank you, Louis.”

Louis keeps breathing a laugh but his cheeks are red, lip biting and fringe fixing so vivid Harry’s eyes struggle to stare at everything.

“You’re welcome.” Louis bites his smile and quickly averts his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck when Harry maintains the silence as he keeps his eyes glued on Louis, thoughts all mushed together when looking at this man’s demeanour and overall appearance that matched a golden personality, Harry thought anyway. “Goodnight.”

It’s only when the lights in the stairs leading to Louis’ room are off that he shakes his head as if to reconnect with the real world, the one outside his head, and the one outside his briefcase. And he’s really not used to this one.

He takes a long hot shower and goes through a few cases before turning the lights off and flopping onto his bed, burying himself under the soft covers as he sets his alarm on his phone.

_Should he get Louis’ number ? It’d probably be safer if he ever has issues in the house while he’s gone, or if he needs Harry to pick something up for him on his way home. Does he even have a phone ? Should he get him one ? Is he an Apple or a Samsung kind of guy ? Maybe he’s a Nokia or something._

It’s as the numerous questions flow in Harry’s brain that Louis decides to rehearse his newly composed song, the one Harry would love to enjoy but can’t because of the strings on the guitar, certainly too old and ripped. He makes a mental note to spend his money wisely but still falls asleep, not attempting to stop the chirping noises below him, laughing when he hears Louis curse when snatching a string. And yes, he’s definitely investing his money on a good night sleep.

 

. . .

 

The day James is back, Harry has made sure his entire day would go smoothly. He’d woken up early – earlier than usual anyway – and finally used that coffee machine he’d gotten but never bothered to install. Louis had apparently taken care of that too.

Unfortunately, Harry never saw Louis in the morning. He was obviously pleased to know the man felt comfortable enough to sleep in, but he sort of missed chatting with him and before going to work. That’s why, when he hears footsteps from downstairs, he rushes his coffee down and quickly grabs his briefcase and phone to pretend he’s just walking out to go to work, not trying to catch Louis to hear that voice that sounded angelic even when not singing.

The sight he gets isn’t what he’d expected.

Louis is freshly out of a steaming shower, towel hanging low on his curvy hips. He’s drying his hair with another smaller one, abs clenching as he hangs it on the lower towel ring. His arms are more muscular than what his hoodies suggested and he’s covered in random tattoos Harry hadn’t seen before, a rather long and prominent one along collarbones Harry gawks at.

“Morning !” Louis yawns, high pitched morning voice taking Harry by surprise, dimpled smile replacing a returned greeting. Louis chuckles. “Have a good day at work, Harry.”

“Thank you. You too !” Harry says and squints, pinching his lips together as Louis mocks his clumsiness.

“Thanks ?” Louis keeps laughing, and Harry joins him, mocking himself for once because it was getting a bit ridiculous how fast he lost control around this man.

“Any plans for today ?”

“Dunno…Might have a swim, or watch movies. Any particular dinner you want ?” Louis asks so naturally Harry wonders if he’d been cooking for the both of them forever, not just days. He was a great cook.

“You’re not cooking tonight. I’ll take you out. You shouldn’t spend so much time in that house, love.” Harry smiles and Louis shyly nods before checking the clock behind Harry who’s just staring, as per usual.

“Harry ?“

“Yeah ?” Harry grins.

“Work ?”

“Oh fucking—“

 

. . .

 

“What the bloody hell happened when I was gone ?” James exclaims once he’s done listening to Harry telling him about what he needed to catch up on. He didn’t really miss much, regularly checking on Harry through emails and phone calls, but there was still a few things here and there that he needed to know, even though that wasn’t really what he was focused on…

“I told you ! They fucking screwed us over, saying I used the money to fund my—“

“No. Not what I’m talking about.” James shushes his friend, analysing him from head to toe with a perplex frown.

“Huh ?”

“You’re different. Something’s changed.” James states, banging his hand on the desk as if he’d discovered the most scandalous gossip of the century. “You met someone !”

“What ? No. I didn’t.” Harry says matter-of-factly.

Harry hadn’t “met someone” since…well…a long time ago. He’d tried keeping his high school relationship but people his age weren’t all mature enough to understand his job and why he needed to do certain things and why he’d place certain things in priority. He didn’t have more luck with older people, too proud of themselves to admit Harry, _young_ inexperienced Harry, was this successful, especially when they weren’t. So no, Harry hadn’t _met someone_.

“But you’re so…” James tries but no words are following. “Ugh, never mind. What are your plans for the night anyway ? Suzan wants you to come over. She’s making a roast !”

Harry’s immediate thought is Louis’ roasts. He made them just the way it should be, seasoned to perfection and as smooth as Harry’s mom used to make it, bringing him a little bit of home. He replays their chats around that breath-taking dish, and stops on Louis’ face, the way his lips are pinched in a heart shape when he chews, the way he eats the vegetables first and leaves the mash and meat for last – he says it’s the best part so he wants all the time he has left to enjoy it – the way he uses the back of his hand to laugh behind it with his mouth full, huffing a laugh until he’s swallowed enough to cackle shamelessly, the way he–

“Harry ?” James tilts his head as if to seek the Harry he left three weeks ago.

“Mmh ?” Harry hums, having no idea what James just said but intrigued by the look on his face, as if he’d been talking to him for a few minutes without him realizing.

“Dinner ? Tonight ?”

“Oh yeah. Sorry, I can’t.” Harry clears his throat.

“Wh—“

“Coffee. I need coffee. Do you need some ? You probably do, don’t you ? I’ll get us some coffee. Or Sarah. Sarah can get that for us—“ Harry rambles, walking towards his secretary to avoid James’ interrogation because he wasn’t ready to look for answers.

The day goes with James’ suspicion only rising, Harry being distant and awkward whenever he feels eyes on him whilst daydreaming in a meeting or not listening to James’ gibberish.

Thing is, he couldn’t decline that invitation. James’ wife had begged him to come for dinner for months but he always found a polite way to say no. She was a kind woman who cared dearly for him, but she was awfully unskilled in the art of not making Harry want to bawl his eyes out.

She always referred to Harry’s dad in some way, any way she could, mentioning his habits when she’d serve a dish, saying things like “your dad would’ve liked that” or “that’s the way your dad liked it” – not in a creepy way – and it only made Harry want to run far away and never talk to her again, which was exactly what he had done until now.

The truth is that, despite what everyone in the business might think, despite what the friends he has left might think, Harry still hadn’t really dealt with his dad passing away. He avoids it, pretends it’s not a real thing that actually happened in the real world, denies the past tense and moves on to other issues. So he’s not the happiest when reminded of it.

“So, are you coming or do I have to make up another excuse ?” James asks, sadly, sighing because he’s clearly fed up with Harry’s habit.

“I’ll come.” Harry says before he can stop himself and think about a good lie. He’d gone over all of them. There was no way to escape this one. “Can I bring someone ?”

He hadn’t forgotten about his and Louis’ plans to go out for dinner. Maybe Louis would enjoy it. Suzan was a lovely woman and adored hosting, so she’d be pleased with one of Harry’s friends, if that’s what he could call Louis anyway, and he could get some fresh air and see other people that Harry before getting bored of him.

“So you did meet someone, you little shit !” James beams at that, shaking Harry by his shoulders as if to get more info out of him.

“I did not ! It’s a friend. I think.” Harry winces, unsure of how weird that sounded out loud. He was more of a dear acquaintance crashing his guest room, or maybe he was more, it wasn’t clear just yet.

“You can bring whoever you want as long as you come. Suzy has been begging me, Harry.”

“I’ll be there, man.”

“Good. Let’s say 8:30 ?”

“Works for me.”

“See you in a bit, Harold.” James pats Harry’s cheek as he would for his own son and walks to his car, leaving Harry in utter distress, stuck on a chessboard he wasn’t sure he knew how to handle anymore.

When he comes home, slightly too aware of the situation he’ll have to explain to Louis, the latter is casually lying on the main sofa, laughing at the screen with a beer. He’s not alone.

Niall is laughing with him, watching Harry’s guest more than the telly itself.

“Well well well…” Harry walks with loud footsteps to make his presence noticed.

“Harry !” Louis grins and gets up but stops in his tracks, as if he was going for a warm embrace but realized they weren’t like that, that they didn’t do that, didn’t approach each other this much. Not that Harry would mind, but still.

“Hiii…” Harry smiles, lips curling as dimples deepen and a sigh of relief escapes, struggling to not walk into an embrace himself. He felt like a child reuniting with his best mate at the end of the day, and that released annoying moths in his stomach.

“How are you, bro ?” Niall asks Harry but is still staring at Louis. Harry doesn’t blame him.

“I’m alright. Didn’t know you were stopping by…”

“Yeah I know, but I finished my chapter in advance and Louis wanted to read it. Then I found beers so…here I am !” Niall shrugs.

“Good stuff then, alright.” Harry chuckles. “Louis can I talk to you ?”

Louis raises a brow but still follows Harry to the kitchen, leaving Niall and his beer in front of the telly.

“Is something wrong ?” Louis asks with the soft voice he always uses when he feels like he’s bothering Harry in some way. Silly thought it was. He’d been playing cringe worthy melodies in the middle of the night and Harry still managed to find him sweet.

“No, of course not. But my business partner’s wife has been begging me to come over for dinner. So I’m gonna have to accept it tonight.”

“Oh, alright, It’s fine, I’ll just make myself a sandwich or something, no worries.”

This boy was unbelievable. Or maybe Harry wasn’t straight-forward enough. Hard to tell.

“I said you’d be there with me…if that’s okay ?”

The expression on Louis’ face at that is priceless. His eyes widen, exposing the greenish blue that always caught Harry’s attention, thin lips parting to create a muted gasp, light hand instinctively coming in contact with the falling fringe that looked fuller today, hairspray heavy. Harry was just glad Louis was having fun with his guests’ bathroom surprises. Or maybe that was his own product.

“Do you—Are you…I mean…If you’re okay with it, I’d be happy to come.” Louis finally gives a wry smile, making Harry grin too big because that was a smile he hadn’t seen before. He wonders if he’s going to get that giddy over every new feature he discovers about Louis, and makes a mental note to tone it down a notch.

“Great then. I’ll warn Niall so he goes home before we run out of food.”

Louis laughs, shoulders bouncing with a hand on his chest, as gentle as always, wrist loose and flowing in a sort of constant waltz Harry sort of wanted to join, perhaps lead as well so it never stops.

He makes sure Niall knows it’s time to go, not that he minded his friend being there, but he took all of Louis’ attention and it was more annoying than he thought, and they needed to get ready for dinner. It was just logical to let him out, you know ?

Once it’s just the two of them, Harry goes through his closet several times before deciding on simple black skinny jeans with a nice belt, black leather boots and a Saint Laurent shirt he’d fallen in love with, mermaids artistically printed in a dark pink and mellow yellow on a reddish orange that enhanced the last of Harry’s summer tan.

As he buttoned his shirt, a weak knock on his door made him turn, giving up on his task halfway.

“Come in !” He says loud enough and goes back to face the mirror he was previously staring at. “I’m in the closet !”

Louis silently reaches Harry and doesn’t say a word even when he’s there, making Harry check if he’s actually there or not.

“Everything okay ?”

“Um…that shirt looks very nice.” Louis says shyly, smiling to himself with his head down before finding the courage to say what he really wanted to say in the first place. “But I don’t think I do ? My jeans are a bit disgusting after I spent the day outside and I’m not sure I can wear an Adidas jumper to your friend’s house ?”

Harry stops his task once again to take a few steps closer to his guest. He does in fact look a bit distraught, and his clothes aren’t in the best state. James wouldn’t mind at all, but maybe Suzan would. She’d probably call the police if Harry showed up wearing trainers.

“I think I can help with that.” Harry decides and walks away to the back of his closet, where he stores clothes he doesn’t wear anymore or clothes that don’t fit, waiting to be given to charity, or friends in need. He doesn’t know in which category Louis belongs to so far.

He chooses black skinny jeans too small for him and a light grey jumper that wasn’t that small but could probably fit Louis. It had to. He looks through the shoes and asks for Louis’ size, finding classy dress shoes coming below the ankles. It’s one size too big, but it’ll do.

“Here. Tell me if you don’t like it, I can find something else if you don’t.” Harry hands the items to a lost puppy and rests his hands on the curve of Louis’ waist as a reassuring touch, searching his eyes until they meet his and diffuse enough ease to let go and finish getting ready.

“Louis ! I’m gonna get the car out, join me outside when you’re ready !” Harry shouts as he makes his way to the garage, choosing the Aston Martin he figures Louis would enjoy to drive to his friend’s. HE doesn’t choose it because of Louis, obviously, it just happens to remind him of that comment he’d made, so, yeah.

He stops in front of the gate and gets out to take a call as he waits for Louis to join him, and he’s glad he’s not on the phone anymore when the man walks closer, making Harry blink trying to make sure he’s seeing things right.

The sun wasn’t completely gone yet, so Louis’ figure could be easily admired in the distance, shadow as delicate as himself, footsteps graceful with a gentle sway of hips that has Harry’s jaw drop.

The jeans are hugging his legs nicely, thighs standing out, hem rolled up at the ankle to expose the tanned skin above the shoes that seemed to be just fine. The jumper doesn’t quite fit, but Harry has never been this happy about getting this size, because it falls low under Louis’ collarbones, exposing part of his quote tattoo, sleeves going past his hands, creating sweater paws that make him look as soft as a kitten, Harry thinks.

He kept his hair naturally soft, flicking the fringe three times per minute, shaven beard leaving a light moustache and neat stubble. He’s really just handsome to make it short, casually strolling to reach the car he beams at whilst Harry attempts to make his insides chill. He’d noticed how attractive that man was in stained hoodies and sweats, with destroyed trainers and old beanies, so it was a bit overwhelming to see him like that.

“What ?” Louis frowns once he looks at Harry looking at him. “It’s the jumper isn’t it ? Or my hair ? Should I actually put something in it ?”

Harry is quick to respond.

“No ! No ! You look great. I like your hair without product. It looks—It’s nice.” Harry remarks and clears his throat, wondering if Louis would think he’s sick from coughing so many times around him. Louis just laughs with a barely noticeable blush.

The way to James’ house is full of easy chats and them singing mainstream songs from their youth, pleased to find out each other’s music taste. They park in front of the pavement and Harry means to open the door, but he takes a quick glimpse at a very nervous and fidgety Louis who doesn’t look as delighted as he’d been so far.

“Hey…” Harry reaches out and places a hand on Louis’ thigh, quickly removing it when catching himself. He clears his throat again - because why not make a fool out of himself – and rests it on the back of Louis’ seat instead. “It’s all good, yeah ? They’re very nice people.”

“Okay but…” Louis sighs. “Do you want me to lie maybe ? Say we met at the grocery store or something ? I’m a great liar. Not that I lie everyday, not to you. I never lied to you. I actually rarely lie—“ Louis is speaking so fast Harry feels the excruciating need to put that hand back on his thigh to slow him down.

“Louis. I don’t want you to lie. They won’t mind. I promise.” Harry gives the most sincere gaze he can manage when Louis looks up, small smile creeping in.

“Alright.”

The dinner is rather pleasant, with only four comments about Harry’s dad and none regarding Louis’ previous bed, so it’s a success. James and his wife happen to love Louis, his jokes and his unusual tell of a man living in the street. He seemed relaxed, easily falling in conversation he’d normally be afraid to mention to anyone as he once said.

James is particularly nice to him.

He serves him seconds and encourages him to speak up whenever a word threatens to come out. He pats his shoulder and laughs too loud at every single hint of a joke, and they seem to get along pretty well. It does trigger something in Harry’s chest, but he ignores it, just keeps chatting with Suzan until it’s time to head home, a careful eye always on stuck on the two men across the table.

“I had a great time, thank you !” Louis laughs as James whispers something behind Harry. The latter frowns and gets a hand on the small of Louis’ back to guide him out faster, and maybe closer to him. It wasn’t a possessive gesture or anything, but James had hogged Louis the whole time and Harry was sort of done for sharing his friend tonight.

They get to the car and Harry feels relieved, having done that one thing he’d postponed for months. All thanks to Louis without whom he’d probably would’ve declined at all costs.

“Did you have fun ?” He asks in the car, keeping his eyes on the road and yet managing to see Louis’ awe.

“Yeah, they’re great folks.” Louis nods. “I really like your friends.”

“I’m happy to hear that. You could introduce me to some of your friends too if you’d like. They could come over for dinner as well.”

When Harry doesn’t hear anything, he turns to face Louis, staring at the window as if Harry had never said anything.

“Louis ?”

“You don’t want to meet my friends, Harry.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I just wanted to let you know that I don’t want to keep you from your life and stuff…”

“It might be a good thing though.” Louis answers, still staring at the lights passing by.

The rest of the ride is rather silent after that. They get home within about twenty minutes and Harry isn’t sure how to end that night. He really didn’t want it to end on a bad note. So he tries to make it better.

“Do you wanna watch a movie ?”

He’s got two cases to go over before the morning and two meeting to prepare, but Louis had seemed absent and he wasn’t going to fall asleep with that in mind.

“Sure. Aren’t you tired though ?”

“No, it’s fine.” Harry smiles and waits for Louis to get to the stairs so he can climb it right behind him, having a full view on how well fitted these jeans were. Not that he purposefully looked at it. Maybe he did. He didn’t. But if he did, nobody had to know.

They pick the fifth season of _Friends_ , Louis having convinced Harry that he wouldn’t last more than twenty minutes. And he was right. But, to Harry’s surprise, Louis doesn’t last any longer. When he opens his eyes to the sound of the rain crashing on his roof, Harry finds Louis curled up to his side, long lashes gently fluttering, hands folded together under his cheek, looking like a literal angel to be handled with care. His head is resting on a pillow, but Harry still pretends he’s directly lying on him, giving him an excuse to not move a finger, getting comfortable with an arm behind Louis’ back as he closes his eyes again, not caring that he’s still clothed and not caring if his arm goes numb.

And maybe this could be the only exception to not hearing the awful guitar sounds he’d been getting so attached to when falling asleep.

 

. . .

 

“Liam !” Harry beams at his friend the second he’s inside the house. They hug for the longest time and Liam kisses Harry’s cheek, making the latter roll his eyes but still hold on to his back.

Liam was Harry’s childhood friend. It was that tall David Beckham look alike that everyone instantly fell in love with. They went to school together and, while Harry took over his dad’s business, Liam went to university. He did everything he could to launch his own label and find the next artist that could be his pride and be the new voice of a generation. He’d been learning from his uncle who worked in a studio and he only had one year left of uni now, so he was ecstatic, ready to throw himself in the big grown up world, but not without his friend’s tips to survive.

“Who’s that ?” Liam asks when a series of chords fill the house’s walls.

Harry had gotten Louis a new guitar. He had poorly attempted to refuse, but Harry figured it was only to stay polite, because he was already playing the strings that the guy at the shop tuned, not even letting Harry insist as he sat down to start working on his new song. Harry had just stood there and smiled.

“Oh, that’s Louis. My new roommate, I guess ?”

“His _voice_ , fuck. That’s such a unique timbre !”

“I know !” Harry agrees because Louis always seemed to doubt his talent and he was beginning to think he was too mesmerized by the man to hear things properly.

They go to the living room, getting a beer as they catch up on everything in their life. Liam had been spending his summer working in America, so he had plenty of stories to make Harry drool. And all Harry could talk about was Louis, because it was the only new thing in his life lately, the only thing worthy of being mentioned, the only tangent that still excited every cell in him when talking about it.

“Niall told me about _it_.” Liam had giggled, making Harry frown because he was, once again, out of the loop.

“What does that mean ?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“I—“

Harry means to justify himself once again, but Louis had figured it was the right time to make an entrance. And Harry’s glad he’s always in the right place at the right time.

"Oh, hello.” Louis smiles, not expecting company. He’s wearing a plain white shirt tightening around his abdomen and black sweats not leaving much for imagination, barefoot because he hated wearing shoes and socks were too slippery. He’s still keeping his hair soft enough to flick it every second, and his constant loose wrist at his side will start to make Harry question his sanity. Liam doesn’t seem to share the thought.

“Hi ! Happy to meet you, Louis ! I’m Liam. Liam Payne.” Liam always said his name like that, as if everyone was supposed to know it, surely just telling it so they could turn on the telly one day and go “hey, isn’t that the guy I met ? Liam Payne wasn’t it ?” and he’d get so many calls from attractive women he’d have to get another phone especially for them. Yes he was that guy. 

“Nice to meet you, lad.” Louis shakes Liam’s hand and gives soft frightened eyes to Harry who instantly walks closer to him to squeeze his waist and explain himself.

“Liam’s a friend. He needed some legal advice so he’s come to borrow a few books and my intelligence.” Harry jokes, making Louis laugh and Liam roll his eyes and huff.

“Oh, okay.” Louis relaxes. “I was just getting a drink. You guys want anything ?”

“I’ll have a beer, thanks mate !” Liam says with all the joy he possesses as he grabs a few more book from the gigantic bookshelf that spreads all around the living room.

“I’m good. Thanks, love.” Harry pouts.

He ignores Liam’s raised brow and returns to his office to finish working on a few paperwork. By the time he comes back, Liam and Louis are glued together on the couch, having a go at the latest FIFA game, loud cheers and teasing touches as they both bicker to cheat against each other. Harry isn’t that pleased with the sight, but he avoids that thought.

“It’s getting so late, where did the time go ?” Harry says, smoothly hinting it’s time for Liam to go home. The sweet thing never got offended and never overanalysed anything, so he happily hugged his friend and spent too long patting Louis’ back and chatting until the door was forcefully closed by Harry’s irritation.

He loved how Louis clicked with his friends, but he didn’t like how his friends clicked with Louis so much. He was charming everyone and, as much as Harry admired that about him, it also meant he wasn’t the only one being charmed all of a sudden. He liked the attention, liked the company, enjoyed feeling like there was never another human being on this Earth before him in Louis’ eyes. But it shouldn’t be like that, and he knew it.

“He’s nice. Sort of looks like Beckham.” Louis chuckles, just to mess with Harry’s mind a bit more. He breathes in, breathes out, and realizes how stupid he’s being over this. He should be happy him and his friends all like each other.

“He does.”

“He told me to stop by the studio tomorrow, hang out and see artists recording their music and stuff. That’d be so fucking wicked. His uncle released some bangers, I can’t believe you know them.” Louis is speaking with so much amazement in his eyes Harry leans back against the wall to witness that beauty, the way his eyes sparkle and the way his voice hits highs, taking Harry with it.

And that’s when he realizes that, despite his will to keep it charitable, he might just have put himself in a trap he couldn’t get out of, a complicated mess that could not possibly end in a good way the more dependent Louis became over him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're liking the story so far :)
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	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you might notice I update everyday...so there's that :) xx

One thing Harry hadn’t anticipated when allowing Liam to take Louis out for a drink – not that Louis needed permission, but Liam still felt like he needed one – was the possibility of him and the artists they’d encounter going to a party ending at the time Harry usually woke up.

He was so happy Louis had found something to do during the day instead of pleasing him with tidying up or cooking, was thrilled at the idea of him meeting respectable people he could rely on, that would have his back no matter what unlike the people he’d met in his life, that he’d completely forgotten that slight detail he hadn’t confronted him about yet: his potential drinking problem.

He’d met Louis next to a pile of beer cans and empty bottles after all, and, he might not have been drunk once since he moved in, it was still that unsaid issue Harry wanted to face but never knew how.

He’d tried everything, proposing a glass of wine at dinner, one that Louis always refused, counting the beers that would disappear, but in vain when knowing Niall Horan was also a variable to the equation. He’d even tried talking about alcoholism one time, but Louis had quickly avoided the subject, distracting him by speaking French for no apparent reason, except the will to mimic Vincent Cassel when watching _Black Swan_.

That had been a habit now, watching movies late at night when Harry got home, having a cuppa as they chatted about their day and had an easy laugh. Louis spent more time than not upstairs, and Harry wanted him to stay there, magically build a spare room next to his own so he could hear the late night guitar sessions Louis still had, this time perfected with his voice Harry could only hear a murmur of through the floor.

That’s why, when Louis comes staggering through the door at five in the morning, laughing loud enough to suggest he’s not by himself, Harry might literally see red.

And he figures Liam is well aware of that, because he only makes sure Louis has crossed the decisive step before storming out, avoiding Harry’s predictable fury.

“Louis !” Harry rushes to catch the man once he stumbles and falls into his arms, laughing at himself as he attempts to get fully back on both feet. “Come with me.”

Harry had spent so much time with Liam in the old days, he knew exactly what to do, and that involved a miraculous smoothie and no question asked. He grabs all the disgusting ingredients his mom would blend for him, and does the same, pouring the mixture in a tall glass he forces Louis to drink out of even though it looks ridiculous, almost the size of his head, hands barely able to hold it up. You’d think Harry was exaggerating how small Louis was, but he really wasn’t. Louis was somehow the tallest man in the smallest body. And yes that made sense.

“I’m fucked.” Louis groans in his glass, holding onto his forehead as if to stop his brain from functioning altogether.

“Had fun ?” Harry tries to keep it calm, not act like a worried parent when he knew Louis was older, and he knew how to take care of himself. But it was a homeless man Harry had found consumed by regret, and that never mixed very well with alcohol and the kind of parties Liam attended with artists in central London, so maybe he was allowed to be concerned.

Louis nods, painfully, making funny faces as he swallows the disgusting juice and drops his head on the kitchen table.

Harry wants to carry him and lay him down in his own bed, bigger, softer, a literal haven for hangovers. But he can only wait as Louis finishes the juice and recomposes himself enough to stand back up.

“You know what’s wrong with clubs ?” He suddenly asks Harry, taking the latter by surprise. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter facing Louis, arms crossed and frown intact. “There’s always that one arse.”

“Did you have a fight or something ?” Harry immediately asks, frowning harder and squeezing his arms against his chest to not combust.

“No…but that’s only because Liam stopped me.” Louis sighs. “You’d think people would fucking shut up about men liking other men you know ? You’d think—You’d think people could just spend time with whoever they want, any way they want, and not be judged for it, just be the way they are and that’d be fucking enough.”

“Louis. Did someone attack you ?” Harry gets more worried by the second. He makes a mental note to ask Liam about it, but still takes a sit next to Louis who’s bowing his head down, hands securing his forehead so it doesn’t completely bang on the table.

“It’s just…I wish everyone was like you and your friends.” Louis sniffles, and Harry’s heart sort of breaks a little. He instinctively rubs the back of Louis’ neck to soothe the upcoming tears, thumb brushing the soft hair at his nape, and lets him have a cry, lets him get it out, admiring the way he does it, as if it was the most normal thing to happen, because it was, maybe not for Harry, but it was.

"It’s alright. You can’t please everyone, can you ?”

Harry tries to comfort Louis, but he’s also aggressively wondering what the hell he’s talking about. Had someone insulted him for liking men ? How did that occur ? Did Louis hook up with someone ? Is that anger, frustration or genuine hurt that’s spreading in his chest ?

He feels anger rush to his veins, making his fist clench and his neck stiffen. If someone touched Louis the wrong way, if someone ever treated him a way he shouldn’t be treated in front of him, he’d probably need more than just Liam to stop him from ending that person. Louis was an amazing guy that deserved to feel safe, and Harry just felt useless seeing him cry like this. He knows he can’t baby him - that’s far from what he wants – but he just wishes people would treat him right.

He walks him to his room with an arm around his waist to keep him steady and makes sure he’s properly tucked in bed, shoes off. He doesn’t dare taking off his clothes, but Louis does it himself with his eyes closed, already drifting away, so Harry doesn’t have to worry about him getting too warm in his sleep. Not that he’d think about these tiny details, but you know, better safe than sorry and all that.

It’s when Harry turns the light off and approaches the door to leave that Louis finally speaks again.

“That’s why my friend kicked me out.” He explains. “He found out I liked guys and he got scared I might make a move on him. Stupid, innit ?”

Harry wants to throw up. How could people be this inconsiderate, he had no clue. He turns to face Louis, heart aching at the sight of this man hurting so bad because of something he cannot change.

“I’m sorry you’ve met so many twats, Louis.” He decides to say. He could say so many things, but it wouldn’t change a thing. It just made him want to make up for all the horrible people Louis had met.

“I can’t even complain.” Louis starts and Harry isn’t sure why he would talk about himself like that, especially when he never did. “You always say things happen for a reason and…well…These twats led me to you, didn’t they ?” Louis means to laugh but he only grins instead, eyes still closed, and it makes Harry fight a smile, biting his bottom lip to not show how happy that makes him, whether it being a drunken statement or a confession.

“I guess they did.” He says to himself.

“Hey, Harry ?” Louis whispers as if he’s not allowed to speak.

“Yeah ?” Harry whispers back, slightly amused by the change in Louis’ tone.

“Thanks for putting up with me. I’m sorry I’m such a burden.”

“You’re not a burden, love. And if you want to think you are, please know you’re the best burden I’ve ever had.” Harry chuckles, making Louis happily laugh and roll on the side, ready to fall asleep. Harry watches until his breathing evens out and he’s snoring in the sweetest way, chest rising and falling as he breathes through his mouth, dainty hand on his tummy.

And that’s definitely not the worst burden Harry’s ever dealt with.

 

. . .

 

“The stock was handled by W&C as usual but they need a confirmation asap to transfer the—“ Harry is talking about everything he needs to take care of before the end of the day, but James is just not listening. It’s usually the other way around, so Harry sighs, begging his friend to focus for just a second.

He was determined to know how Louis was, asking if Harry would bring him to the end of the year gala, and asking that one question that was rather relevant but also incredibly dreadful: when will Louis move out ?

“I don’t know if he’d like that kind of party. Now, can we actually work or should I hire a new partner ?” Harry sounds exasperated, making James hold his hands up in defeat.

It only takes five minutes for him to go back to it.

“So you’re gonna let him stay there forever ?”

“James !”

“Sorry mate, but I think you should make sure he gets a job or something. We’ve got plenty of small jobs here, and I heard Diane is having her baby soon, maybe he could take her place ?”

“No thanks. The last thing he needs is for me to boss him around. I already feel like I’ve kidnapped him or something.”

“He doesn’t seem to mind…”

“How would you know ? I don’t want him to—Let’s just not talk about this now, yeah ?”

“Fine, fine. But you’ll have to think about it, man. He can’t stay in your guest room forever.”

Harry ignores that last comment and resumes explaining the case they need to work on.

That day ends earlier, allowing Harry to stop by his favourite Thai place to get dinner, skipping steps as he makes his way upstairs, places the bags on the kitchen counter, and realizes that it’s been about ten minutes and Louis still hasn’t emerged from anywhere like he usually would.

Niall isn’t there and Liam is away on a trip so he’s not likely to be out, unless he wanted a stroll or something, maybe meet up with some friends. Some _new_ friends…

Had he kept in touch with whoever he seemed to have met that night at the club ? Would Harry have to deal with Louis bringing dates home ? That was an idea he’d completely disregard when inviting him in. He avoids thinking about that and peeks through the window to see Louis peacefully walk in the gardens, admiring the leaves that fell to build an autumnal bed still bright in the mid November mist.

“I like that tree.” Louis says when Harry gets closer, crushing leaves under his feet.

“Me too.”

“I hope so…takes fucking half of your property.” Louis laughs and Harry chuckles but rolls his eyes internally at himself. He could never find the right words with Louis, always being too focused on speaking instead of staring like an idiot, no matter the words that would come out.

The sunlight that made its way through the clouds was reflecting on Louis’ skin like a flame, igniting every inch of it the best way it could. His eyes were glistening as he squinted to make out Harry’s face, and his hair twirled in the wind, loose shirt and thick sweats glued to his body by the force of it.

“Mock me all you want, I’m not the one in a tee shirt when it’s bloody seven degrees.” Harry bumps into Louis’ shoulder playfully, making the latter give a death stare to finally laugh and fix his fringe, a genuine nest on his head from the gel harry would recognize among millions. He doesn’t say anything about it though.

“Why did you get such a big house if you’re by yourself ?” Louis asks after a pause, caressing the petal of a dying flower attacked by the previous rain.

“To welcome you of course.” Harry jokes and Louis looks at him with all the softness one can have, thanking him with his eyes.

They walk around the gardens for a while, Harry commenting on all the reasons why he’d get such eccentric plants. Louis spends most of the time laughing at the failed attempts to justify buying such expensive thorns, and Harry joins him, mocking himself the way he seemed to always do around that man.

It’s like Louis had a gift, that inexplicable ability to make Harry realize how stupid he’d been to take some things so seriously. No, owning four cars didn’t matter if he didn’t have a popcorn maker. No, having satin sheets wasn’t a necessity because it made your nights slippery and you couldn’t even eat on them, so what even was the point ? Of course staying up all night was better than sleeping, you create more memories you get to daydream about later. Stress is only an opportunity to get a massage and make excuses to skip invitations you don’t want to attend. And so on.

There were so many little comments Harry would get here and there that stuck with him, that made him laugh and become way too aware of how easy it all could be. It wasn’t about the deadlines but the challenge, wasn’t about the opponents but the competition, and it wasn’t about expensive snails but all about burgers. That’s what Louis had taught him, and it just kind of stayed in a corner of Harry’s mind, one where he wandered more often than not.

A few weeks go by like that, with Harry getting unconscious life lessons from Louis who isn’t even aware he’s giving them. They keep finding details about each other that link them a bit more somehow, a shared passion for poutine, dressing gowns, _Grease_ and other meaningless things one shouldn’t even think about, and that yet, somehow, Harry doesn’t forget.

He doesn’t forget that Louis’ favourite colour is green - _the shade your eyes are I think_ – that his favourite song of all time is one from the first party he ever went to in middle school, just for the memories it brings every time it’s on, that his blood is certainly fifty per cent milkshake, or even that he bites his nails when he feels frightened somehow and only wants to run away from a situation.

He’d also gotten an explanation for the drunken night.

_“I don’t know what happened, alcohol makes me emotional I guess. When I said I wasn’t interested in girls when chatting about them, a guy made that disgusted face Calvin had, and it just…it brought back unpleasant memories.”_

And it made him both relieved and devastated.

Harry sometimes takes folders to work from home, even though he wouldn’t admit it’s just to spend more time with Louis who’s missing Liam while he’s at uni. He scribbles on papers as Louis goes through the entirety of his library, silently reading through all the books’ synopsis until he finds one he likes and sits down in the chair in a corner, sinking into every story as Harry throws glances from time to time to watch the scene.

He always crossed his legs on the armchair and made himself small, curling up into himself as if to wrap and protect the book he’d hold with his arms instead of just his hands, as if to dive into the plot, body and soul. It was quite the way to read.

“What’s your favourite book ?” He’d asked one day when Harry seemed distracted at his desk, biting on the end of his pen as he stared at the ceiling, legs stretched on the heavy piece of wood.

“I’m not sure. I’ve read so many, I don’t even think I remember a single one enough to be _the one_.”

“I think I’ve only ever read one book worth reading. Maybe two, but never more. You just haven’t found it yet.” Louis says, and it makes Harry drop his feet from the desk and lean on it to look at the man from across the room.

“What is it ?”

“Hm ?”

“The one book worth reading.”

“ _La Mécanique Du Coeur_. I think the English title is _Jack And The Cukoo-Clock Heart_. Read it when I was younger and never forgot about it.” Louis explains as if he hadn’t just revealed reading an entire novel in a foreign language. That could actually explain his habit of throwing French words when watching a movie or joking around with his accent. It suit him. 

“What is it about ?”

“Everything.” Louis shrugs.

Harry figures he’s not going to elaborate, that maybe he’s going to have to get that book himself and read it. A person’s favourite story could say so much, especially when deciding to only read that one. Of course Harry would call Sarah to get a translated version.

“I like that, you know.” Harry says after a while when Louis is back into the umpteenth book he’d picked up.

“Like what ?”

“The way you think by yourself. I mean look at me, I’ve got too many books in each room, I am only all of the books I’ve read and the songs I’ve listened to. You’re _you_.”

Louis seems to ponder the thought, lifting his head up from the book to frown and avert his eyes from Harry’s to go back to his pages, giving a comment that’ll stay inside his head.

 

. . .

 

_“If you're frightened of damaging yourself, you increase the risk of doing just that. Consider the tightrope walker. Do you think he spares any thought for falling while he's walking the rope? No, he accepts the risk, and enjoys the thrill of braving the danger. If you spend your whole life being careful not to break anything, you'll get terribly bored, you know... I can't think of anything more fun than being impulsive.”_

― _Mathias Malzieu, La Mécanique du Coeur_

 

 

“Harry, can we talk ?” Louis had said on that gloomy day Harry would mark as the worst of the month, maybe even the year. And not just because of the crappy weather, not even because of his favourite boots stepping in a dog’s morning release, not even because of Simon Cowell giving him an unpleasant call, but because Louis had finally brought up the topic.

He’d said it bluntly, not beating around the bush for one second, as if he was ripping a Band-Aid off, one he didn’t seem too excited to get rid of.

“Liam’s uncle wants to sign me.” He’d first said, making Harry jump in excitement, forgetting his good will to keep his distance when hugging Louis tight, the latter returning it even though taken aback by the surprisingly affectionate gesture. He wasn’t going to stop there, however, so that wasn’t one of the reasons why Harry despised that day. 

“I could get a few gigs and pay you back, find a flat…”

Harry hadn’t found the words to express his thoughts, no words except the obvious negation. He didn’t want Louis to go, didn’t want him to think it was temporary. Although it was supposed to be. It’s not that Harry was rethinking letting Louis go one day, but he’d gotten so attached to the mid night guitar melodies and literary chats and that laughter that echoed in the entire house. He didn’t want to lose the one thing that made his day worthwhile for the first time in three years.

If Louis was a book, he’d be the one worth reading, that one book Harry would choose over the hundreds he possesses. And he didn’t want to put it back on the shelf.

Louis had looked down, rubbing his feet on the carpet of Harry’s home office, as if there was something he wasn’t telling him. So Harry decided to say it for him.

“I really like having you here.” He’d said, close enough to the actual thought he had. “You can stay as long as you want, Louis.”

The man had given a shy smile, blushing as he nodded and cleared his throat, making it uncertain what his exact opinion on the matter was. He then fled to his room, and Harry’s world was crashing down to the realization that Louis wasn’t a book, so he could take himself away and deprive Harry of him and everything he was.

 

. . .

 

The first gig Louis gets is for a local Christmas lights celebration. A-list names were chosen, but Liam’s uncle had managed to get Louis on there, surely promising his number one to attend as well. And Louis was dying from fear.

He’d been working all day to record songs and try things out, song writing with Liam at Harry’s as the latter made sure his friend wouldn’t push it, wouldn’t put too much pressure on Louis, and also made sure he would keep his distance, not particularly pleased by the way they always touched as if they needed to tease each other to even breathe. Harry didn’t get to do it to not give mix signals, but he also didn’t like other people feeling free to do it instead. Louis never looked as pleased as when Harry was affectionate though, so he didn’t make so much of a fuss.

“Lou, Lou !” Harry shouts, trying to contain Louis backstage.

“What if I mess up the chords ? Is the stage too high ? I didn’t check enough. Is that shirt too tight ? Do you th—“

“Louis !” Harry finally yells, squeezing Louis’ shoulders. “It’s going to be just fine. You’re an amazing singer and people will love your covers. Trust me.”

Louis seemed to calm down at that, hugging Harry with one arm before pulling away to take a deep breath.

“But there’s so many people out there.” Louis murmurs on their way to the stage.

“If you feel like it’s too much, just focus on me. I’ll be on the side right here, I’m not going anywhere. You can just sing to me if you want and pretend it’s just us in the living room, yeah ?”

Louis smiles at that and, to Harry’s bewilderment, kisses his cheek. He actually goes on his tiptoes, and kisses Harry’s cheek, gently and slowly enough to allow Harry to close his eyes and pretend these lips aren’t as heavenly as they feel, because that’d be another issue to put on the list.

There had been so many, most of which Harry figured was just his brain being dramatic, but Louis had been more affectionate and at ease lately, staying close to Harry’s side when going out, tugging at his shirt when discretely asking a question about manners, sitting close enough on the couch to bump thighs, stroking his hand to get his attention…and it was starting to drive Harry crazy.

As expected, Louis nails it. He’s hesitant at first, but once he turns to stare at Harry for a minute to sing before facing the crowd again, he gains the confidence he lacked, making Harry squeal and Liam pull his friend into his side.

Speaking of, Harry had still things he needed to forgive Liam for.

Drunken nights aside, Liam was the most handsy friend Harry had, and he just happened to be the most handsy friend Louis now had, and Harry wasn’t sure he liked that as much.

They’d spend days together and come back early in the morning, sometimes falling asleep on the couch, the both of them, legs tangled in a drunken mess. Harry was glad Louis trusted someone like Liam. He was a loyal friend, always ready for a party but also incredibly responsible. He just so happened to look like Louis’ footballer fantasy, and, for a reason Harry knew but wouldn’t admit, that was a problem.        

“You did great, love !” Harry applauded once Louis was off stage.

“Really ?” Louis’ eyes were so hopeful, so pure, genuinely relying on Harry’s words to let go of the anguish left.

Harry doesn’t repeat himself, but he also doesn’t say any other word. He just stares down at Louis who’s looking at him the same way, not expecting any sentence, just looking, sinking into the green of Harry’s eyes as Harry drowns in the blue of Louis’, no need to form words to communicate. They knew each other enough to imagine every word that would come out.

“I told you mate ! Fucking sick !” Liam broke their gaze to hug his friend, and Harry let him, wry smile slowly spreading in a full one once Louis subtly pulled away from Liam’s embrace to get back to Harry, looking at him the way he had been seconds ago. “Let’s go celebrate !”

Liam and the crew started heading out of the dressing room instantly, leaving Louis and Harry by themselves for the first time that night.

“Did you like it ? The adrenaline that comes with a crowd watching you work your magic, the screaming girls...” Harry chuckles.

“I didn’t even notice any of it if I’m honest.” Louis winces, as if that was a bad thing because that was certainly what an artist would seek. “I was just thinking about you.”

Harry stops smiling, gulping because that was not something he’d expected to leave Louis’ mouth.

“I mean, I followed your advice and focused on you, picturing just being in the living room and stuff.” Louis adds and Harry’s glad to find out he’s starting to get just as clumsy as himself has always been.

“I’m happy I could help then.” Harry winks and Louis bites a smile.

It was weird how fast time had gone, already over two months later and here they were, celebrating Christmas together.

Harry normally didn’t do anything. His family was spread around the world, his sister studying abroad and his mom on vacation with her new partner. So Harry was usually all by himself, but now that there was someone to share the experience with, he’d decided to go all out on the festivities, buying a gigantic Christmas tree, getting stockings, wrapping gifts…He wasn’t going to skip this one too, especially when he had a literal elf with him, singing Christmas-y songs and wearing festive jumpers Harry would get every single day.

"You don’t have to get me one for everyday until Christmas you know.” Louis had laughed, still taking Harry’s numerous clothing items happily and wearing a different jumper everyday, good mood contagious.

But, to Harry’s surprise, the excitement doesn’t last. It’s on Christmas Eve that it all falls apart somehow, out of the blue.

Niall and Liam had come over, not willing to get involved in greater celebrations or parties elsewhere. They all wore Christmas hats and brought too many presents, and participated at the dinner Louis mainly cooked, turkey and stuffing and mince pies not leaving any room in the kitchen.

Louis had seemed off though. He stayed rather silent, seemingly lost in thoughts, in his own little world whilst Niall and Liam chatted loudly and Harry watched them bicker over Liam’s newfound obsession for The Eagles, one Niall claimed was too random because his friend only knew two songs and couldn’t call himself a fan.

Harry couldn’t even manage to get Louis away from everyone, his friends spending the night at his house to open presents in the morning and not pass out from all the food they’d eat.

It’s like Louis wasn’t even really there, not commenting much on everything that was going on, so Harry snuck into his room when the others fell asleep on the couch, knocking on the door until Louis eventually gave in and let him in.

“Is everything okay, Lou ?” He asked, frowning at the sight of Louis staring at the ceiling with a sad expression glued to his face.

“Yeah, ‘course.” Louis said but his voice gave it away. He’d been crying. “I’m jus tired. But Merry Christmas !” He fakes a smile and turns off the light, signalling for Harry to not insist. The latter doesn’t, closing the door wondering if he had done something wrong.

_Was it because of him kissing his cheek under the mistletoe ? It was meant to amusing – maybe - but perhaps Louis wasn’t comfortable with it ? Or was it Harry’s mash ? He’d never been the best at that, was it that bad ? Or maybe—_

It’s as Harry goes through every possibility that could’ve provoked such a shift in behaviour that he steps on something. It’s Louis’ ID card. He must’ve dropped it from his wallet when Liam brought him his check. He was making a decent amount of money for the beginning, and Harry still had the proudest smile on his face. 

He picks up the ID and means to replace it in front of Louis’ door on the small shelf, but he peers at the picture, and then a detail that hadn’t crossed his mind just yet. And everything makes sense. Louis’ birthday was today, and he didn’t even know.

“Fuck.” He curses and only thinks for thirty seconds to find a way to get that sadness away. At any cost.

 

. . .

 

“Harry, you know I’ve seen every corner of this house right ?” Louis says, arms stretched before him to not knock over anything as Harry guides him by the waist, scarf tied over his eyes.

“Not this.” Harry says with that smug voice and Louis shakes his head, amused by this man’s constant eagerness to surprise him. “Okay. There.”

Harry is already shaking, not just because of the cold, but also because of the excitement that always comes with surprises. He unties the soft scarf and just waits for Louis to open his eyes and just…react.

“Oh my God you got a new car ! Harry that’s—“

“No !” Harry laughs, resting his hands on Louis’ shoulders from behind. He leans closer to his ear and murmurs. “This one’s for you.”

Louis doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move either and Harry isn’t even sure he’s breathing at this point.

“Happy Birthday.” Harry smirks, wondering if he maybe went too far with the Audi when Louis still doesn’t flinch. He figured it was an urban car but also very chic with that sort of quality that makes everyone just love it, much like Louis.

But Louis might have been unable to react because he’d been drained of all facial expressions when opening all the previous gifts from Harry and his friends on Christmas day. He’d gotten the record player he’d told Liam about, the one he wanted as a kid but never got the money for. He’d gotten the limited edition of _La Mécanique du Coeur_ that Niall found in of the many book shops nobody knew about but him, and last but not least, he’d gotten an entire studio set to record his own songs and compose like a pro, present kindly given by Harry who owed so many things to so many people for it he would probably have to give his soul. But he didn’t mind if it meant seeing Louis this happy.

“How did you find out ?” Louis asks, checking out his new car he doesn’t even attempt to refuse after thanking Harry a million times, jumping in his arms. Harry loved how he never pretended to not want the things he got him, always promising to give back in all the ways he genuinely did, by just being himself, helping out in the house, entertaining him, bringing him all those unmaterialistic things Harry didn’t know he needed so bad. Harry was just as spoiled to be honest.

“You dropped your ID.” Harry says as he watches Louis unravel the car’s mysteries. “Can I ask why you didn’t tell me ? Was that why you were a bit off that night ?”

“Yeah but I—I don’t know. I figured you’d want to throw a party for me or something, and I really wasn’t into that. I know you mean well, but I don’t like my birthday that much. It reminds me of my family and how I haven’t heard them wish me a happy birthday in years…I’m sorry I killed the mood.”

“You didn’t.” Harry immediately reassures the man. “And I get it, but you could’ve told me. You can tell me anything, Lou.”

Louis gets out of his new car to hug Harry, longer than usual, a warmer embrace than the friendly one they exchanged after Louis’ gig. He nuzzles into the crook of Harry’s neck, tip of his nose tickling Harry’s skin from how cold it was. He doesn’t pull away. He hugs him back and runs a hands through his soft hair, squeezing his hip playfully once before parting ways so Louis can drive to work and Harry can go back to being late for meetings.

 

. . .

 

When Harry had convinced Louis to be his date for the annual end of the year gala of his firm, he hadn’t thought about everything that would involve, and certainly not his strength to contain himself enough to not keep a hand on Louis at all times.

Every year for New Year’s Eve, Harry’s firm organized a reception in the most prestigious venues of London. This year, it’d be in Harrods. It was quite the unusual concept, having cocktails amongst luxury bags and suits, but still an innovative idea Sarah had that Harry had absolutely loved. He always gave her full control over it, because she’d been doing it for years and always created a success no one ever forgot about.

So that wasn’t the issue here.

The real problem was Louis and maybe even Liam who had decided taking him for shopping for the special night was a good idea. Of course it was. But it sort of wasn’t.

Louis had stepped out of his room and Harry had struggled to stay on his feet, gasping and failing to not drop his blazer when his fingers forgot how to do the holding thing, apparently as shocked as the rest of his body and brain.

The man had shaven completely, hair styled in a neat quiff, trimmed on the sides, hair bouncing as delicately as Louis walked, adjusting a blazer that hugged his hips and showed tight dress pants rolled up at the ankles to expose a triangle tattoo Harry hadn’t even noticed yet. He’s wearing lilac suede dress shoes his size this time, and a pocket square to match, not only the colour of his shoes, but also the colour and pattern of Harry’s suit. And Harry was definitely going to thank Liam for that.

Louis was dressed in all black so the square stood out nicely, making sure everyone knew it belonged next to the geometric patterned suit Harry was wearing, a lavender and light pink that matched his rosy lips. He wore a black shirt with it, thus matching Louis’ entire outfit as well.

And it was a hassle to not tear up at that, because Harry had never found someone willing to first of all enjoy his fashion choices, let alone apply them to themselves. And he was on a fucking cloud, because it was Louis out of everyone, and it made it even more special for the reason we don’t talk about. 

“You look stunning.” He’d whispered at the sight, hand still hanging with his blazer on the floor. Louis chuckles and picks it up, gesturing for Harry to slip into it as he held it high enough, dressing the man so they could finally get going.

Without asking permission, Harry leans towards Louis’ neck, attracted by a scent he hadn’t noticed before. He subtly sniffs the skin and moans silently, nostrils overwhelmed by a perfume he knew was going to be the death of him.

“Oh yeah, Liam thought that’d suit me…” Louis says with the most innocent voice. “Is it too much ?”

“It’s perfect.” Harry breathes as he straightens up – reluctantly – and places a hand on the small of Louis’ back as he always does to guide them out.

When they get there, Louis looks nervous, up until Harry rubs his back and whispers everything he needs to know about that kind of party, and how he’s got nothing to worry about when everyone is already half drunk, Harry always being fashionably – too – late.

He had expected the questions.

He would say that Louis and him were childhood friends and nothing else. He would overdramatize his weight in the music industry, and they would secretly laugh at their lies, mocking everyone else and their uptight stance and boring conversations. It was going to be a great night.

But then Dan Wootton happened, and Harry sort of regretted being this optimistic.

“Would you look at that…” He’d said to Louis who looked frozen. Harry frowned but encouraged Dan to elaborate. “Didn’t know you were the kind to mix with the failures of our society, Styles.”

That’s how, in one sentence, everything crashed. Louis was biting his nails, and Harry knew what that meant.

And he couldn’t be more panicked when he lost the man among the crowd in one of the biggest upmarket department store London had, forcing him to go on a quest to find Louis and make sure the remaining pieces of this man didn’t shatter in the aisles of a luxury shop.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for this but please trust me :)
> 
> Also, it's a bit short but the next one is so long I had to let you breathe haha
> 
> PS: the next one is already the last (whaaaat) before the epilogue I can't believe 
> 
> Thank you for reading <3
> 
> Mel

When Harry finds Louis, it’s on the floor that exhibits an infinite amount of toys and stuffed animals. The shop is filled with doll houses real people wished they could own, drones children could use to chase each other, remote controlled helicopters, wooden bricks and Legos.

Dozens of giant teddy bears and wild animals looking too soft for their own good are fighting on displays, and the emptiness suggests that no adult attending this gala is in their right mind, choosing to spend the night in a room full of precious crystals rather than exciting bits of fluff, all decorated with the holiday season, bobbles and elves overwhelming the place.

He finds Louis playing with a train set, looking like the younger, innocent and unscarred version of himself, legs crossed, slouching to admire the different pieces.

“Lou ?” Harry tries, but Louis doesn’t turn to face him.

He’s taken his jacket off to hang it on the tallest bear Harry’s ever seen, still clothed as Father Christmas. It brings back memories of that night Louis had the exact same face he has now, and that’s why Harry figures it might be about that recurring issue Louis can’t seem to talk about. So he tries.

He unbuttons his blazer and sits down next to Louis, watching him as he assembles the several pieces of the train before letting it roll on the miniature rails with realistic sounds that make him smile. Harry, not Louis. The latter looks like he’ll never smile again.

“When I was seven my mom told me we wouldn’t have anything for dinner because it was either food or school supplies.” Harry starts. Louis looks up but Harry keeps his eyes on the train, grabbing a small car to play with around the track. “She said my dad would make it better though, that that’s why he was never there. He was working for us. The company was going through some troubles, so he didn’t make much he could use himself, but if he worked harder, that would change.”

The train comes to a stop and Louis doesn’t seem willing to get it going again, so Harry does, making it be the background sound of his story he wishes was only from a book.

“By my tenth birthday, everything was back to normal, so I got a bike and my mom threw me a party with four different cakes. But it was one of the worst birthdays I’d ever had, because my dad never showed up. He was working and only came back the morning after, when I was asleep, leaving the house right when I woke up.”

The train stops again, but Harry doesn’t restart it this time. So Louis does.

“My mom’s job’s never been enough. Without my dad we’d be the poorest family around. It was either not having a dad, or being poor. So they agreed he’d work twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.” Harry adds, flashes of nights spent waiting for his dad to come kiss him goodnight in his bed making his chest ache. It wasn’t much, those two seconds of his dad kissing his forehead, but it was still all he wanted right now.

“And then he passed away. And it was my turn. I took on the job to make sure everyone would have food on their plate and a roof above their head. I put my own life on the side and focused on making the right numbers, and I became just like my dad, giving my entire self to the job. All for a house too big and as empty as my office when everyone goes home to their family.”

Louis stays silent, calmly listening to Harry pour his heart out in hope Louis would do the same.

“That’s what Dan Wootton calls being successful, Louis. Loneliness, exhaustion and greed. That’s nothing to envy.”

At that Louis stops the train. He sniffles and takes a deep breath, and Harry looks down at the toys, waiting.

“My mom saved up so much money for me to go to college she didn’t have enough for my sisters. She said I was the hope of the family, that it was up to me and I had to take one for the team while she had two jobs. My dad left when I was too young to even remember anything, and I was already the man of the house.” Louis explains.

“All I wanted was to be with my friends and have a normal childhood, get pissed and play footie. I wanted nothing to do with work. But then my aunt gave me my first guitar when I was fifteen, and I didn’t want to do anything else. So I thought that’d be a great way to compromise, making money doing something I’m passionate about, meet everyone’s needs whilst enjoying myself. My mom said it wasn’t realistic though.”

“So I packed my bags and left. I grabbed my fucking guitar and walked away, crashed my friend’s couch and never gave any news. I just thought I’d come back one day and show them, drown them in gifts and money and everything my sisters and mom ever wanted. I thought she was wrong, I thought—“ Louis sighs, exasperated with himself. “I thought I had a chance at being the man that I wanted to be.”

And oh how Harry understood that. He’d thought at first that becoming his father was becoming the man he wanted to be. But that was just him becoming his father, period. He’d put others before himself and forgot about his own happiness, thinking it was just delusional to even consider it, accepting misery as his fate, thinking he didn’t _have a chance at being the man that he wanted to be_.

But, to be fair, Harry couldn’t imagine how much more improvement the man next to him could get. He was kind and generous, talented and intelligent. He was dedicated enough to leave everything behind to come back stronger, and he’d been courageous enough to not let a life in the street make a coward out of him, still playing his guitar all day on a street he didn’t know whether he’d ever leave or build a future on. He constantly helped people in all the ways that mattered, and brought the happiness in a room full of sorrow.

“I don’t think you realize how great of a man you are, Louis.” Harry admits.

Louis looks up again, swallows the visible tears that threatened to stream and scoots closer to Harry, resting his head on his shoulder. Harry is taken aback but lets him, rubbing his back gently to soothe the aching soul breathing against his neck.

“I like the man I am when I’m with you.” Louis murmurs as a secret. He sits up, gazing straight into Harry’s eyes before staring lower. For a while.

Harry isn’t sure what to do, what to say, or how fast his heart is supposed to beat. He doesn’t move, letting Louis close the gap between them, until their faces are close enough so he can feel him breathe against his own nose, until they’re close enough to make him close his eyes, and until their lips are touching, Louis giving a light peck as Harry stays stoic.

When Louis realizes Harry isn’t going to kiss him back, he clears his throat and squints, turning red and starting to bite his nails.

“Um, sorry, I—I just…Sorry.”

Before he can be farther away, Harry brings his face closer with a light grasp on the back of his neck, kissing him the way he’d intended to if ever this close to Louis’ mouth. The latter is taken by surprise but is seemingly pleased, resting a delicate hand on Harry’s torso to not tumble forward from the grip on his neck as Harry licks his bottom lip and presses their lips together over and over again, slowly, getting lost into it as if they’d both been craving jus that.

It’s only when they hear footsteps that they pull away and stand up, not so subtly wiping the thread of saliva on their lips with a thumb when Liam barges in.

“Oh, um, sorry…I was just, um…was looking for the loo ? Guess it’s not this way.” Liam stutters, going red from embarrassment. When Louis turns around to put his jacket back on, Liam silently gestures for Harry to explain what the hell was that, franticly throwing his arms all over the place as if that’d make sense.

Harry pretends he doesn’t get it and ignores his friend, turning to Louis as he gets his blazer to put it back on, leading the man with a hand on his waist to join the party again.

“Right, right, left, straight ahead.” He instructs to Liam who’s pretending he wasn’t just gesticulating like a mad chimp seconds ago.

They walk back to the centre of the festivities and Harry can’t help noticing the grin on Louis’ face, the pink of his cheeks and the way he stays close to his side, letting him keep a hand on the small of his back or brushing against his hip to guide him towards another group of people.

They spend most of the time in the background though, just watching the crowd mingle and give fake practised smiles on a roll. Their laugh sound euphoric by the tenth time they try to find someone important funny when they’re the most boring person on Earth, their stance betray the painful heels they’d had to wear for the occasion, and their red eyes show the amount of champagne they’d had to indulge to be able to handle everything.

On another part of the room, set up just for the night, a band playing jazz gives a new insight on the party, certainly the most entertaining one, people swaying together to dance as slowly as they can to either make the night last or make sure they don’t stumble and fall from too many drinks.

Harry watches as Louis stares at it, chuckling sometimes when a man makes a woman twirl on his finger, surprising her and bringing a delighted smile on her face.

“Shall we ?” Harry decides to ask, leaving his glass behind to stretch a hand to the man beside him, the other arm behind his back as he bows and gazes into Louis’ blue eyes.

“I’m not sure I can dance.“ Louis laughs but sets his glass behind him anyway.

“Me neither.” Harry shrugs and leads them to the others, holding Louis’ hand with one of his as the other rests on the curve of his waist before gently sliding to his lower back to pull him closer.

Louis lifts one hand to Harry’s shoulder as the other slides into Harry’s, and he blushes, trying to follow Harry steps effortlessly because he always underestimates his talents.

“You’re a fine dancer, you liar.” Harry accuses, leaning into Louis’ ear to whisper the comment.

“Guess I’m not the only one though ?” Louis says back as Harry swings easily. He didn’t know how to dance, but maybe he’d just never had the right partner.

They keep going for what feels like two minutes but is probably an hour, not taking any break because it feels like if they stop, then the world will start spinning again, the crowd will start approaching them once more, and their lives will catch up.

The night ends with them slow dancing to too many songs until they’re pressed against each other, Louis’ arms wrapped around Harry’s neck, Harry’s arms wrapped around Louis’ middle as if to hold him together and never let go, not even aware that maybe it’s Louis that’s holding him together, stroking his neck with a thumb to give shivers he’s not used to.

They chat and laugh the whole time, watching other people around them in a mundane circus, interacting like puppets and leaving with a glass of hypocrisy and vanity. They make up the thoughts those people might have, whispering their ideas to each other as they keep swaying in sync.

“ _This man looks cute but could he be more suffocating ? I mean, these hands are big, I know it, he knows it, but my waist doesn’t need to know.”_ Louis giggles, making Harry laugh as he watches the woman Louis is mimicking, trying to escape the grip of her partner.

“ _I’ve been working in the firm for five years but I still don’t know her name. Anita ? Maybe it’s Gloria ? I’m going with Anastasia, it’s probably Anastasia. And my God this is the ugliest dress I’ve ever seen !”_ Harry makes up a deeper voice, almost groaning to form the words. He adjusts his thoughts as the man frowns at the woman he’s dancing with, staring at her cheetah dress as if it were the most outrageous crime.

“I’m having a good time.” Louis says and Harry tries to find whom he’s mimicking, in vain.

“Who’s that ?” He asks, still sweeping the place with his eyes to find the source.

“Me.” Louis giggles into Harry’s neck, making the latter bite a smile.

“Me too.”

Once they’re ready to go, the crowd having lessened in just two other couples dancing, Liam joins his friends to hug them goodbye. He gives a knowing look to Harry who pretends he doesn’t see it, and escapes Harrods to another party that’ll end in the sunlight.

On their way to the car, Harry becomes slightly more aware of what had just happened. Even slightly drunk, he can’t help overthinking it, how complicated they’d just made their situation.

Louis doesn’t seem phased, being just as drunk and probably clueless to any upcoming trouble that may occur, just happily tugging at Harry’s blazer as they walk and hop in Harry’s car.

It’s when they get to the house that things get tricky.

Louis’ room is on the first floor and they come to an halt. Louis looks down, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket, and he means to say something, but he opens his mouth at the same time Harry does, making the both giggle shyly and cough, unsure of what to do.

“Tonight was really fun.” Louis finally breaks the silence.

“It was. I hope you—“ Harry means to extend their goodbyes, but Louis kisses his lips in one quick peck, shushing him in the best way.

“I loved it. G’night.” Louis licks his lips and opens the door to his bedroom, waiting for Harry to climb the steps to close it.

Harry undresses himself with a smile, buries himself into his sheets with a smile, and still doesn’t let it go when he counts.

“3…2…1…”

And he falls asleep after the first few chords on Louis’ guitar.

 

. . .

 

_“We love each other like matches in the dark. We don't talk, we catch fire instead ”_

 

―  _Mathias Malzieu, La Mécanique du coeur_

 

 

“Harry…please calm down, that wanker isn’t worth it.” James tries to contain his friend, screaming and throwing things around in anger. He never let himself lose his temper, but leave it to Dan bloody Wootton the privilege to make that happen.

After the night of the gala, Harry’s enemy had decided it was the greatest idea to spread the rumour that Harry Styles was dating a homeless alcoholic. He’d made sure everyone recognized the singer from the business district and linked it to poverty and shame, and most of all Harry.

He’d spent the week facing dumbfounded looks as he reached his office, whispers behind his back and giggles whenever he left the building or talked to Louis on the phone. He had no clue what was going on though, not until James heard Sarah’s exhaustive description of all the gossips going around the desks.

“Fucking wanker that’s for sure !” Harry grunts and bangs another fist on the wall next to him, pinching the bridge of his nose to keep it calmer.

It wasn’t even his own reputation he cared about the most, even though losing the respect of a world he had to work so hard to get into was sort of a let-down. He was now sure to lose markets, get rejected, have workers treat him like an equal rather than a superior, and have his castle crumble until there was nothing left. But above this all was the idea of Louis being a weak link, a burden as he’d once put it, the reason of a downfall. He hated that thought.

Of course he wasn’t questioning the relationship he’d developed with him, but maybe he was. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had. Maybe he was slightly divided between his job, the work of a lifetime, not his, but his father’s, and the one thing he’d always sought, the one thing he couldn’t name yet but knew he didn’t want to let go of.

That day he goes home on edge, honking at everyone for no reason, switching lanes just because, and not thanking the sweet Amanda at the cashiers in Sainsbury’s.

And when he walks home to a stranger on his couch, he might just lose his fucking mind.

“Harry !” Louis beams at the man who’s still boiling furious. “This is Zayn, a childhood friend. He saw me perform at the Christmas lights party and came to the studio today. How crazy ?!”

Louis looks excited to introduce the olive skinned handsome man on his right, but Harry’s had a long day and nerves to control, so he fakes a smile and barely greets Louis as he walks to his office and slams the door shut, leaving an awkward silence and a waving hand behind him.

He couldn’t take one more thing.

Louis hadn’t acknowledged their interaction at the gala since it happened. Things had gone back to normal and Harry had no clue how to bring it up. It was like Louis wanted things to be like they were that night, but was too afraid to dive in, and Harry was waiting patiently for it to happen, even though it was killing him not to know what he had mind, if Harry was allowed to be this close, if he was allowed to treat him like he had been.

He was just overwhelmingly stressed, and add that to the rumours Wootton had spread and the lawsuit he had to deal with, and you’d have a man on his knees trying to beg God for some sort of peace.

On top of everything, was his mom. Anne had been calling to stop by for days now and Harry avoided the confrontation, not knowing how to announce to his mom that he’d fallen for an ex homeless man that was sort of his protégé. She hated the idea of her son spending money on anyone, hated distractions that could make him lose focus on the job, and hated the idea of him ruining his social status. And Harry’s head ached.

“Harry ?” Louis knocked on the door and stepped in cautiously, and Harry sort of hated himself for making Louis this scared to even enter his office when he’d normally spend just as much time as he did in it. “Everything alright ?”

Was everything alright ? Was there one single thing going right ?

No.

“Yes.” Harry says sternly, not looking up from his paperwork.

“Do you want anything ?” Louis asks, tentatively.

“To work. I just need to get this done, so can you tell your friend to go please ?” Harry keeps a dry and intimidating tone he’d never used with Louis, making the latter nod and exit the room, shocked and maybe even scared a little.

And it goes on like this for the next two weeks.

It’s two weeks of Harry being distant and absent, constantly trying to work twice as much in the office to anticipate everyone’s suspicions, gossips spreading with added details Harry doesn’t even want to hear about.

He keeps losing offers and workers keep looking down on him, and it’s not the workplace he’s used to and it’s stressful and he wants a way out.

W&C wins their case for non-compliant engine deliveries and Harry loses half of half of a million, plus the legal fees. He’s falling apart and even James can’t do anything for him.

James can’t bring the money back, can’t make the workers respect his friend, and can’t make Louis express himself. So he isolates himself. He’s locked in his office away from everything and everyone and he wants nothing but his dad to appear out of nowhere and just fucking tell him what to do, tell him what he did so wrong, tell him how he’s supposed to handle life because he hasn’t had the training yet and it’s starting to weigh him down.

He goes home to Louis being in his own part of the house and it hurts but he doesn’t make any change. Niall doesn’t stay long because he knows that side of his friend and knows it means he’s got to stay by himself, and Liam tries his best but nothing is enough to bring Harry’s father back, nothing is enough to stop people from talking, and nothing is enough for Louis to be his, so there’s no point.

And he asks Louis to stop playing the guitar at two in the morning that night.

 

. . .

 

_“ I love you crookedly because my heart's been unhinged from birth. The doctors gave me strict instructions not to fall in love: my fragile clockwork heart would never survive. But when you gave me a dose of love so powerful - far beyond my wildest dreams - that I felt able to confront anything for you, I decided to put my life in your hands.”_

 

― Mathias Malzieu, _La Mécanique du coeur_

 

“I found a small flat not too far from the studio. It’s quite nice and affordable, so I got it.” Louis explains one morning, and Harry can’t bring himself to say anything.

He’s drained. He’s had to deal with workers being lazy on sites he needed to finish two months ago. He’s had to watch Dan and Simon taunt him with all the offers they’d gotten whilst Harry was facing the result of his new reputation. He’s had to deal with James being disappointed, looking hurt, had to lessen the amount he could get for himself and the employees to afford the engines while they didn’t get any new opportunities from the city. He’s basically had to die and pretend he was just fine, and he had no emotion left to handle Louis, because Louis didn’t give any.

“S’nice.” He’d said, throat tight because that was so far from what he wanted to say, so far from what he’d said a couple of weeks ago, but he had no clue if that was what Louis wanted to hear.

“I’ll move out this week.” Louis had added, voice weak, keeping a painful gap between them on the couch.

“Hm.” Harry hadn’t even flinched, hadn’t gotten his head away from his phone as he texted James his strategy to keep this company afloat.

And that’s how, within a week, Louis was gone, Harry’s company was slowly sinking, and Harry let it happen, watching it all fall as he struggled to keep himself standing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Listen to If I Could Fly and cry with me :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is another one because my laptop is giving up on me so I better just make sure to finish the story !
> 
> It's not as long as I thought because I've just pushed certain things to the epilogue, but I hope you can still enjoy :)
> 
> Thank you again for reading and, just so you're warned and all, I listened to If I Could Fly whilst writing this part so...yeah
> 
> Enjoy :D xx
> 
> Mel

_“I wanted to create a voyage to the moon just for her, but what I_ _should have given her was a real journey on earth.”_

 

― Mathias Malzieu, _La Mécanique du coeur_

 

“So you’re telling me you didn’t find two seconds out of your fucking lazy day to dig that hole ? You have the machine, you have the crew, what more do you fucking need, you idiot ?!” Harry yells at the worker who’s been bragging about not getting any job done for a week.

It’d been relentless lately, employees dropping like flies, stopping their work to snub their boss the best they could, only showing respect to James, for a reason Harry didn’t want to know, because of whatever rubbish his opponents had told about him. He had to stay up all night trying to find ways to make up for the lack of activity to not go bankrupt the following year, but he was struggling, and James knew it.

He’d been the greatest help around, shutting everyone up when whispers started rising, juggling with permits to construct new roads they needed to make it out alive through the year, and being a good listener when Harry crashed, exhausted and completely out of solutions.

He knew it wasn’t just the firm though. He even thought it had nothing to do with the business, nothing to do with bloody Wootton and his made up rumours. It was about something greater than a bored psychopath. It was about himself and Louis.

The latter hadn’t been around for a week and the only news Harry got was through Liam and Niall, which he hated. Louis never called, and neither did Harry. It’s like they were on a break from each other, as if they were on different continents, different planets, leaving Harry on the one he thought he’d left a while ago.

“He’s miserable and he misses you, you know.” Liam had said one night.

“Then why doesn’t he call ?” Harry had answered, and Liam had no idea how to respond, leaving a heavy silence Harry loathed.

He couldn’t even smile, barely slept at night, wondering why he had to wait every damn night for that song to be played on a guitar that had left with a part of him. And maybe he was miserable too.

All he could do when he had a second to himself, late at night when he couldn’t find the will to close his eyes, was to read _La Mécanique du Coeur_. That’s all he did, reread the small book again and again until it clicked, until he understood why it was the one worth reading. It’d taken him a while to figure it out, but when he finally stopped thinking about himself he realized that it wasn’t about him.

Whenever he read books, he always tried his best to relate to the story, to put himself in the character’s shoes and feel the same, but that wasn’t the goal here. Louis didn’t mean it’s the best book he’s ever read, he meant it’s the best book that describes him because if it’s the one worth reading, it’s the one he relates to the most.

That’s why, when Harry finishes the story for the third time, he gets it. And he highlights every quote that screams Louis.

 

. . .

 

“You what ?!” James shouted in the office. “You can’t be serious, mate.”

“I am. I trust you. I’ve worked hard and I did everything I could, but I trust you.”

Harry stormed out of the office with all the strength that he’d gathered for three days. It’d taken more than he thought to leave, but he did. He didn’t even have to get the papers done, he’d had this idea since the very first day and had had someone do it the second year. And he was ready to be the man he wanted to be, even if it meant not being the one his father once was.

He looks back at the kingdom he’d just given his friend, and feels his chest ache, his eyes burn, but no tear come out because it hasn’t for four years so it wasn’t going to start now.

He eyes the street he’d been stopping at every morning at some point in the previous year and smiles, confirming his decision, making it even clearer that he was doing the right thing.

When he gets to Louis’ door though, he leaves. He wants to knock but isn’t sure what the answer will be. After all, he’d had a dilemma in his head, but he had no clue what he’d be in Louis’. And he knocked at the fifth attempt out of his car.

Louis opened and frowned in shock. He had bags under his eyes and his fringe was soft, probably the sign that he hadn’t gone outside yet, maybe for days given the messy beard and sweats he sported.

“Hi.” He says, looking down. “Didn’t expect to see you...”

“I know but, um, can I come in ?” Harry doesn’t want to waste a second, he’d wasted enough time already to do that.

“I guess…” Louis shrugged and stepped aside to let Harry enter, guiding them to his living room.

His living room also happened to be his bedroom, dining room and kitchen, so Harry tried his best not to comment on anything. He’d been so used to spoil him, to get him grandiose things, he struggled to accept that reality. He wanted to give him a voyage on the moon but all he should’ve given him was a real journey on earth…

“Do you want a drink ?” Louis asks, biting his nails.

“No I’m good, I just need to say something important.” Harry rushes, stepping closer to Louis so he can look him in the eyes without avoiding the issue.

“Um, okay I—“

“You’re not Jack.” Harry interrupts.

“Huh ?”

“You’re not Jack. You don’t have a clockwork heart, Louis. I’ve felt it, I’ve seen it. Your heart is as real as I am. I know you think you’re not allowed to…that there are things you can’t do or experience. But I know you can. It doesn’t mean anything that you’ve never had it before, it just means that nothing was worth it before, that you deserved something else and I don’t know if it’s selfish or incredibly narcissistic of me to think I might be it, but I do.” 

“Harry I—“

“No, listen. I’ve been hurting because I thought you didn’t feel the same. I thought- I thought you didn’t want all of the things I gave you, but that’s because I never gave you what you really needed. I always thought things were what people wanted, and I think you did too. We thought cars and houses and money were everything we wanted and needed, but what a fucking bullshit lie, love !” 

“A heart. That’s what I needed. And that’s what you showed me. You made mine work and I just…I just wondered if there was a chance I might have made a difference for yours ? So just—“ Harry starts to struggle, not finding the words anymore because his thoughts are racing and there’s just so much he needs to say to make sure Louis _knows_. “Just tell me if there’s a chance I made yours work. Just tell me if I’ll have to put that book on a shelf and forget about it like every other one. Tell me if it’s the one or if I better give up looking.”

Louis looks frozen, lips parted and brows furrowed in confusion, maybe despair. And Harry wants to scream. He sighs, feeling his chest fucking stabbed and his throat too tight, and his eyes still burning like fire. He gives up. He walks to the door, and he gives up.

“You did.” Louis finally says when Harry turns the doorknob, leaving it to the last dramatic minute because he needs Harry’s heart to fucking explode.

“What ?”

“You did make it work.” Louis looks up as if to not wet his cheek, takes a deep breath and seems to gather enough strength to move mountains. “I fell for you.”

Harry could’ve had an entire speech, but, like everything he’d discovered, sometimes the simplest things are the most efficient.

He steps back, walking slowly before almost sprinting to kiss Louis, taking his face in his hands to make up for every fucking second he’s spent away from him, every fucking second he’d spent not touching him, not kissing him and not hearing his heart beat that fucking loud.

“Then why didn’t you say anything ?” Harry stops, Louis’ hands tightening around his middle to not let him go.

“I thought I was Jack.”

And that makes Harry laugh. Out of all the things he could do, he just laughs. He laughs and kisses Louis again, laughs and lets Louis kiss him again, until their tongues are blending into one, until he can lift him up by his thighs and drop the both of them on the small bed that’s also serving as a couch, and until he can feel Louis’ fingers find the buttons of his shirt and the zip of his jeans to show what he means, to make sure Harry knows he’s not imagined things.

“I fell for your eyes first.” Louis says as he makes his way along Harry’s jawline with light kisses. “Then your voice. I fell for the way you looked at me and the way you laughed.” He continues, stopping by Harry’s mouth as he gets rid of Harry’s shirt and his own. “Fell for the way you treated me and fell for that cockiness that’s gonna get you in trouble one day.”

Harry can’t even laugh. He’s being given all the words he wanted to hear and he’s too paralyzed to react.

“Fell for your hands on my back and your breath against my neck. Then I fell for the way you let me play my shitty guitar at 2 am.” Louis slides Harry’s jeans off of him and settles between his legs to walk his tongue from his neck to his collarbones, sucking on them as he traces the lines of swallows. “Fell for your tattoos.”

Harry lets him, mentally gasping at the feeling of Louis’ tongue on his skin, his hand slowly palming him as if that was the most natural thing to do as he recited all the reasons why he liked Harry and everything about him.

“Fell for your lips and then I fell too deep.” Louis finally whispers as he walks his lips around Harry’s clothed cock, freeing him only to have him die a little more, throwing his head back when he wraps his lips around it, tongue licking the tip as if he’d thought about it for too long to hold back anymore.

Harry can feel it in his bones, the way Louis’ cheeks hollow and suck and give Harry his life back, make him feel all this ray of emotions he’d repressed for weeks, years, sinking into it as he whimpers and holds on to Louis’ hair, soft – so fucking soft – with his perfume still on his lips.

Louis makes sure he takes his time, hand twisting around Harry as he sucks, until he feels Harry gone enough to undress himself and climb back up to make Harry look at him and guide him through the rest. 

“I fell for you.” Louis murmurs into Harry’s mouth and the latter can’t breathe properly, but he can roll the both of them harshly enough to hit the floor, a few bottles falling on the side not even making either stop, breathless, devouring each other in every way as Harry lies on top of Louis and makes sure Louis is comfortable enough to take him, to have him fall apart inside of him, to have his insides wrecked until it reaches his heart to make sure he knows how fucking well it works.

“I fell for you too.” Harry whispers into Louis’ ear as he thrusts into him, breathing heavily into his mouth from time to time because he wants to do everything, he wants to give everything and never ask something back because he already has more than enough just having Louis like that, moaning under him and finally expressing how he feels.

They keep exploring each other, keep exhausting each other until the last drop of sweat, until they can’t move anymore, until their heart are back to one piece because half of two makes a whole and who needs more than that.

Because, Harry’s heart might have been broken, and Louis’ heart might have been smashed as well, when put together it was more than enough of a heart to love each other.

 

. . .

 

“More sugar.” Louis instructs, sat on the kitchen counter.

“You’re sweet enough.” Harry coos, standing between Louis’ legs with a leaking spatula in his hand, kissing the tip of Louis’ button nose to prove his point.

“That’s cute, but you still need to add more sugar.”

“Alright.” Harry shrugs and pokes Louis’ nose with the spatula, leaving a stain of chocolate cake mix on his face to laugh hysterically.

“You did not just do that.” Louis wipes his chocolaty nose with his thumb and sucks on it, making a popping noise as he dips two fingers into the mix and throws some on Harry’s naked torso.

“You’re asking for war, baby.” Harry warns but Louis can only giggle, still licking his thumb.

You’d think making chocolate cupcakes would actually involve making cupcakes, but leave the task to two grown men in boxers and you’ll have a food fight, chocolate mixture all over the walls as well as their bodies.

Of course, it stops being tragic once one of them starts licking the chocolate off the other one. It starts with Harry biting into Louis’ thigh and continues with Louis sucking on Harry’s earlobe, resumes with Harry licking Louis’ tummy and ends with Louis sucking on something else.

A mess, that’s what it was.

“Harry ! Louis !” Liam shouts from the front door when they’re both in the shower trying to clean everything by creating even more of a mess, water splashing everywhere, soap falling to the tiled floor as Harry decides Louis looks a bit too pretty when wet and Louis decides he likes when Harry calls him pretty.

It’s only when their friend knock on the bedroom door that they realize they’re not alone, dressing up quickly and parting ways after a few – too many – smacks on the lips.

“Hiii !” Harry greets his friend happily, hugging him tight with his long and wet curls bouncing on his shoulders.

“Took a shower ?”

“Yeah…” Harry clears his throat.

“Paynoooo !” Louis sings and hugs his friend, hair dripping on his clean shirt.

It only takes two seconds for Liam to make sense of everything, when Louis walks to the kitchen and struggles to not sway his hips just a bit more than usual.

“Should I stop by later or ?” He asks, blushing.

“Nah, you killed it already.” Harry jokes but Liam looks petrified, hiding behind a pillow he grabs from the couch.

“Just wanted to tell Louis everything’s set for the label.”

“What label ?” Harry asks, not informed about anything regarding a label.

“The one Louis has been trying to set up ? To find a new female act ?” Liam says as if Harry is supposed to know this.

“Wh—“ Harry means to ask but Louis enters the room with a beer he gives Liam and a kiss he gives to Harry’s neck.

“Liam said you’re starting up a label ? What’s that about ?” Harry immediately asks but still wraps an arm around Louis’ back to slide a hand in the back pocket of his jeans.

“Oh yeah, um, I was going to talk to you about that as a surprise, but I guess I can tell you now…” Louis says and gives a death stare to Liam who scoots closer to Harry. “I figured, since you’re going to uni and I don’t feel like touring so much, I could work behind the scenes ? I’ve seen Liam and his uncle work and I love the whole process. And there are so little girl bands around I just want to make other people’s dream come true, you know ? But don’t worry, Liam’s doing it with me.”

“That’s—“ Harry starts but Louis interrupts.

“And I saved up from all the gigs and we’ll pay half and half. And we’ll stay in London.”

“I’m—“ 

“And I promise I won’t bring it home so you can study all you want and—“

“Lou !” Harry finally puts a hand on Louis’ mouth to make him shut up. “I’m very proud of you.” He lets go of Louis’ mouth to kiss it and ignores Liam coughing behind them when he deepens the kiss, making his friend silently sneak out of the house when Louis sort of forgets there’s someone else there too.

And it just feels nice to dive into that book every single day like other books don’t even exist…

 

. . .

 

“You’re joking.”

James had insisted on coming for dinner at Harry and Louis’ house – yes that was now a thing when Louis had figured Harry would never leave his apartment but his happened to be meant for more than half a person – and he’d brought champagne and no wife or kids to celebrate something Harry had no clue about, until now.

“I am not !” James says excitedly, pouring champagne in three glasses as Louis waits for the news.

“He’s used the company’s funds to finance a trip to the Bahamas, the hotel for his mistress and to pay back employees he’d harassed from Spencers and Finnegan.” James explains, smile never leaving his face.

“I can’t fucking believe this. Wootton was a fucking wanker and a liar, but an actual crook ? That’s so funny.” Harry shakes his head in delight and welcomes Louis on his lap, kissing his neck once before facing his friend again. “How’s the firm doing ?”

“It’s going alright, mate.” James nods. “We’re doing just fine, as usual. We get gigs and everyone’s forgotten about the gossips. They all talk nicely about you and how you and your father were and will always be the best leaders and all that. It’s nice to hear, man.”

“I’m glad.” Harry smiles and he can see the look in Louis’ eyes, that concern asking if Harry regrets giving up the business, but the latter kisses his cheek and whispers “ _It’s fine_.”, so Louis relaxes, massaging Harry’s scalp and chatting with James for the rest of the evening.

“Life’s a funny thing…” Louis remarks when they’re lying on the wrong side of the bed, still panting.

“I know !” Harry exclaims. “I mean, who would think a person could fucking bend like that ! Mad.”

“I’m not talking about that you idiot !” Louis scolds Harry, laughing when he winces under his fist. “I’m talking about Wootton.”

“I just ate you out and you wanna talk about Wootton ?” Harry frowns. Louis still laughs.

“All I’m saying is, you thought you’d lost everything because of him and now look at him.”

“I never thought I’d lost everything.” Harry corrects. “ _The best investment in life is life itself_. That’s what my dad used to say...Everything I need I get from you, my love.”

“I love you.” Louis whispers into Harry’s ear. 

“I love you too.” Harry whispers back, and he kisses Louis so thoroughly, with so much passion, with everything he has, that there’s just a need to lose their breath all over again.

It was indeed funny how life could take and give right back, how it could knock you down only to lead you to a better stance. It was now Harry with Louis, Louis with Harry and it was just so much better than just Louis and Harry that they didn’t even need to add anything to that, or maybe not right away.

That’s what they decide when they’re walking back from Harry’s office after dropping something for James one day. They notice the street where they'd first met and, Harry being Harry, finds the excruciating need to re-enact the encounter, telling Louis to switch places so they’d know what it’d be like if the roles were reversed.

So Louis obliges. He pretends to be on the phone and to trip over a can, and he finds Harry on his knees below him, but not grabbing coffees.

In his hand, he has a little blue velvet box.

“Louis.” He starts. The latter gulps. “I’ve met a guy on this very street four years ago. He showed me a lot of things, but most of all he showed me I had a heart, and a heart meant for him only. So, I’m asking you, do you think that guy would want to spend the rest of his life with me ?”

“I hate you for this.” Louis sobs , making Harry frown. “But yes. That guy would fucking love that.”

Harry thought the day that thing happens would be because of extreme sadness, because of that moment when he’d lose his job or lose against W&C. But, to his greatest surprise, the day tears finally streamed down his cheeks was the day that Louis said yes, the day he asked for the man he’d fallen in love with to be by his side for as long as they have two halves of a heart meant for each other.


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's already over :(
> 
> It's been so much fun writing this and my laptop let me right the very last word and then crashed so YAY
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed the story, but especially LolaTommo who needs to be thanked for the prompt ! I love you so much for this you have no idea ! The story legit wrote itself all I had to do was cry over it as my fingers typed haha
> 
> Please leave some feedback so I know what you liked/disliked :)
> 
> Also, there may be typos since, you know, laptop issues...
> 
> I may write a bonus chapter once my it's fixed !
> 
> Thank youuuu for reading <3
> 
> Mel

The day Louis had chosen to invite everyone wasn’t picked randomly. It was on the same day he’d decided to leave everything behind, almost eight years ago. It was the day he’d chosen to run away from his house to come back with enough to make it a home. And now, now that he’d found a home away from that house, now that he had enough to build another one, he decided it was time.

Of course, he hadn’t waited that long to contact them. He’d given a phone call two years ago. His mom had cried too much to speak, and maybe Louis had cried too, Harry’s arms being the only reason he hadn’t fallen apart in his bed.

She sounded so relieved to hear her son, as if all this time he’d spent eaten up by remorse meant nothing to her, as long as he was safe. And he told her exactly how safe he was.

They’d been catching up through phone calls, texts with pictures of Louis’ sisters all grown up, making him hide a cry every time, only to collapse in Harry’s arms who always encouraged him to let it out. Harry couldn’t help asking for them to come over, proposing to fly them from Doncaster on his charge, but Louis always said it wasn’t the right time. Until now.

“Louis !” Lottie jumped into her brother’s arms so fast the latter tripped and they both collapsed in the stairs, hugging so tight Louis thought she’d never let go, or maybe that was him.

Jay was just as ecstatic, crying every two words as she kissed her son again and again until there was no doubt how much she’d missed him. She always kept his hand in hers and, for once, Harry allowed someone else to hold Louis and keep him close enough to not let him breathe.

It was Jay, Lottie and Fizzy and it was the best Christmas Louis could have. Harry had gotten the girls everything he thought was trendy, everything twenty year olds would want, from laptops to concert tickets Louis had managed to get from his job.

Speaking of, he was proud to talk about his label he owned with Liam, giving his sisters a check to help them get a flat away from home and giving his mom everything she’d ever asked for: a responsible and caring son.

She’d thanked Harry as well.

She knew his role in everything, knew how important he was for her son and, even though the news of him being gay was a surprise, it was a very pleasant one when she’d met the man responsible for his happiness, away from all the people she thought had ruined her son somehow.

They spend the week there, in Louis and Harry’s new house on the outskirts of the city, far from the relentless chaos and closer to the countryside, allowing them to have their haven they could pretend belonged to another world, to their own, without the hectic stress of urban life. And no, Niall wasn’t pleased with that decision, but he’d met the woman who’d sold the house to his friends, and needless to say they were still neighbours.

If Louis’ family was thrilled to meet Harry, it hadn’t been quite the same reaction for Harry’s side.

Anne was a conservative woman who attached a lot of value to success, and her late husband’s job. However, much like Jay, when she met Louis and realized how happy he made her son, not much else mattered.

Harry also proved himself to be a successful lawyer after graduating from university, specializing in the defence of the weakest, mainly homeless people and everyone who couldn’t afford a lawyer, far from the selfish corporations to help everyday people with unfortunate lives.

So Jay might have played a huge part in Anne’s acceptance, becoming close friends overtime, it was still a victory for Louis and Harry to know they were both able to welcome their family in their new home, and have a good example of what life was about when they’d build a family on their own.

And that, that was the one thing on Harry’s mind.

“Lou ! Lou ! Have you checked the mail ?!” He’d shout every single morning from the shower when he would hear Louis come back from Hershel’s morning walk. Of course they hadn’t been warned about huskies’ constant need of exercise, he had blue eyes and a fluffy coat, they didn’t need any more information.

“Yes and no, not yet.” Louis would always answer, sounding fed up but secretly just as hopeful as his husband.

“Do you think I should give them a call ?” Harry would say, forgetting about the water above him.

And Louis would always join him inside, making sure Harry’s frown disappeared for at least twenty minutes.

If they were meant to have one, then it would happen soon enough.

 

. . .

 

“Great job, bro !” Louis claps his hands and shouts behind the glass so his friend can hear him.

After the success of the female act he’d managed, Louis had gotten a lot of demos sent to his office. And one he’d considered more than anyone else’s was the one of a certain Zayn Malik, his childhood friend who’d contacted him a while ago after seeing him at a certain Christmas celebration, Louis’ first gig. They’d part ways a long time ago because of some sort of fight they had, but years later they didn’t even remember that feud, only remembering the good times they had when they’d called each other brothers and swore they’d never leave each other’s life. And Louis signed him.

Harry hadn’t properly met him the first time they’d seen each other, and he was still not completely comfortable with him, always a bit sceptical because of how often they’d hang out, but Louis always liked him being jealous so it was never an actual issue. It’d actually become a habit whenever Zayn recorded for too long with Louis in the studio. Harry would show up “unexpectedly”, and just remind Louis what he thought about him working with a gorgeous model look alike.

“Hey, love.” Harry knocks on the door as he enters with two cups of tea, one with milk, no sugar, of course.

“Harry !” Louis grins and drops whatever he was doing to kiss Harry, seeing him for the first time since the morning.

He’d been staying late at work, finishing up a few details for the new album with Zayn and Liam who had now gone together, going on double dates or whatnot, Louis hadn’t really listened. All he could think about was Harry coming and making his exhausting day ten times better.

Harry sits on the new couch they’d gotten and asks Louis to play him what they’d recorded in the day. Louis does just that and joins Harry, smirking as he straddles his lap and makes up for not being together all day.

“He’s talented, I’ll give you that !” Harry remarks as Louis sucks on his neck. He spreads his hands on Louis’ arse to keep him close a she listens to one of the best voices he’s ever heard - after Louis’ - and for some reason, it triggers something.

“Can you stop talking about him please ?” Louis asks, starting to grind on Harry’s lap as if that comment was an insult.

“Of course, baby. Anything for you.” Harry said with a smug expression on his face, knowing Louis would make sure Harry only breathed his name for the next half hour.

 

. . .

 

“Louis Tomlinson and Liam Payne.”

The second his name is called, Louis looks petrified. He’s still, as lively as a statue, eyes wide and lips parted in shock. Needless to say he hadn’t expected being awarded for the label he’d set up with his friend.

On his left, Liam is absolutely frantic, applauding and jumping on his chair with the brightest smile Louis’ ever seen on him. They hug and whisper all the things they’ve always figured they’d say in this situation, thanking each other for the crazy ride that had been the past five years.

On his right, Harry is crying. Actual tears are flowing down his face as he discretely wipes them off with his napkin, kissing Louis so many times the host has to scold them for not getting on the stage fast enough.

Liam and Louis both get on it and accept the triangle glass they’re handed, and Liam thanks the crowd for an awesome year and many to come as Louis clears his throat and gets a small note out of his pocket, one Harry had no clue about.

“I have a lot of people to thank but I doubt you little shits will let me go through the list so I’ll just be short on this one.” Louis starts, making everyone laugh as Harry giggles in his wet napkin. “I wanna thank everyone who’s been involved in making this label a success, every artist, every member of our crew. I wanna thank my pal Liam Payne who’s been a best friend and a brother I will always owe a beer.”

The crowd seems pleased with Louis’ speech, James patting Harry’s back to calm him down from the fucking pride flowing, as if he hadn’t rehearsed being chilled out. Waste of a week.

“But most of all I wanna thank my dear husband who’s always supported me in everything I decided to do and was never afraid to tell me not to jump with both feet into a tank full of sharks. Literally.” Harry giggles, bowing when everyone applauds him for keeping this man alive long enough to produce such good music. “Harry. You taught me how to be the man I’ve always wanted to be, was always by my side when I thought I was alone, and always found a way to remind me how easy it is. Because, a lot can happen in life, but as long as I have you and as long as I look into your eyes, I know it’s worth it, and I know I’m strong enough to get through everything. Thank you. I love you.”

And Harry can’t help crumbling into James’ arms, smiling so big his cheeks hurt and his heart aches even more, but in the best way it’s ever been squished, pride and love overwhelming him as they step out of the venue, Harry’s blazer on Louis’ shoulder because that’s the way it is and the way it’s always going to be, Harry keeping Louis safe and warm as they make their way up, just as much as if they ever have to take a long way down.

 

. . .

 

“Didn’t we get mail yesterday ?” Harry frowns but Louis doesn’t say anything as he walks around the kitchen to open the letter in his hands. “Did you park in that bank’s parking again ? I told you you’d get towed, Lou !”

Louis is still silent as he reads the letter and holds his mouth.

“See ? How much is it ? Must be a fucking fortune since they have cameras there, They probably counted all the fucking times you—“

“Shut up and read this Harry.” Louis rushes and shoves the letter in Harry’s face.

Harry reads it carefully and gasps, looking back at Louis who’s already sitting down with the biggest smile on his face and the warmest tear son his cheek because he’s naturally emotional and that’s just too much not to shed a tear.

“Are we…Is she…” Harry stutters.

“We’re having a baby !”

 

. . .

 

“No, this one goes for Roger, remember ? He’s vegetarian, darling.” Sarah instructs to the little girl.

“Olivia ! Can you come for a sec ?” Louis calls his daughter, serving beans in a bowl. The girl skips her way to her dad and grins, ketchup all over her cheeks. “Have you finished serving the group, love ?”

“Yeah, but Papa told me to get Roger seconds.”

“ _I swear to God_.” Louis says under his breath. “Papa needs to remember we have an entire shelter to feed, now go and serve someone else, Lily.”

“Alright !” The little girl rolls her eyes but still obliges, grabbing a tray to put in front of the new newcomer who’s just chosen a seat to have dinner. “Hi, Sir !”

“Oh, hello…” The man smile shyly and accepts the tray. “Hey, um, do you know who I have to talk to to get a bed ?”

“You have to talk to my dad. I’ll get him for you.” The ten year old warns and runs to find Harry.

The latter follows her to the stranger and drops the bag of bread he was holding when he sees none other than Dan Wootton himself begging for a place to sleep.

“Dan Wootton.” He says, with no pride, just a statement.

The man, with a new beard and long hair, ripped clothes and no shoes looks up from his plate of beans, and looks like his entire life is flashing before his eyes.

“I hear you want a room here.”

“Um…yes.” He says, helpless. It’s like he knows what Harry will do, because he gives up his meal and stands up, walking out because he’s aware of all the harm he’s done in his life, especially to Harry. 

“Wait.” Harry calls. “It’s on the third floor. Find Sarah, she will guide you to your bed.”

Dan turns around, puzzled, about to collapse on the floor from surprise. And what he does makes Harry cringe but he lets him. He lets him run to his arms and hug him, because he knows that everyone deserves a roof, a chance at life and a little bit of love and forgiveness to make it all work.

**Author's Note:**

> Please give kudos if you feel generous and liked the story, and feel free to share your thoughts or give me prompts :) 
> 
>  


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